


Three Stages of the Collapse

by MilayaMilenZeal



Category: Subarashiki Kono Sekai | The World Ends With You
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Broken Promises, Depression, F/M, M/M, One Night Stands, One-Sided Attraction, Strangers to Lovers, Tissue Warning, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:06:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 62,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilayaMilenZeal/pseuds/MilayaMilenZeal
Summary: He feels like he had been abandoned, and yet he remains ever trusting of Him. He told him to wait for Him, and so he waits… and waits… and waits…





	1. Stage Alpha - The Setup

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old story that I'm considering redoing for actual publication with original characters. Let me know what you guys think and if anything could be done to potentially improve it. And keep your tissues at the ready while reading.

A pair of quiet, forlorn blue eyes carefully look over his appearance, making sure there is absolutely nothing out of place, because he wants to look his best, as he does every day of his almost never-ending cycle of university days. He will never admit to anyone who will ask that he wants to impress someone, and no one knows that he is, because to them, he looks anything but perfect. His hair is always spiky, even after being thoroughly soaked and then dried, and he blames that on a genetic trait even if he does not know if it is, in any way, true, his frame is wiry at best, though he does have some impressive muscles according to his ex-Stalker, as he calls her behind her back, though he does not see what she defines as muscles, always covered by dark blue and purple with black and gold from his favorite brand, and he always carries a large set of headphones with him, which rest either around his neck or over his ears, where they belong.

He thinks he looks presentable, but he spends a good few minutes standing there, absently smoothing out his clothes a few times, until his phone beeps to let him know he has to leave immediately before he is late. As he leaves his tiny apartment and locks the door, he, once again, feels his stomach begin its routine twisting and knot-tying, always so badly that sometimes he thinks he may throw up, but he always swallows it down. He does not want to appear as weak, so he always ensures he gives no one reason to call him thus.

He takes his bicycle and begins the ten-minute sprint to the school building, doing his very best to ignore his horribly knotting stomach and the increasing urge to wretch. His face never displays any of his inner turmoil, as he has schooled himself not to do over so many years, even if he wants to so badly…

He reaches the building soon and he soon spots them, talking and laughing, and he cannot help but wish he can be truly part of that as he parks and locks his bike. He walks to them slowly, and he hopes that they will notice him before he gets to their side, but no one does. He wonders, with a terrible twisting in his stomach almost making him groan in pain, how long it will take them to notice his presence, so he stays still and waits.

They do not even notice him and merely talk and laugh and he sees that everyone is already there as they always are because they seem to always arrive before he does, and that includes Him…

He is different from him and not merely because of His hair color, which is such a beautiful silver color that he often wonders if it is not dyed, or because of His deep violet eyes, such a vibrant color unlike anything he has ever seen, even though these are all things that make Him and he so different from one another. He loves to watch Him, and he has never truly understood why, since for all his unrivaled beauty, He is both annoying and persistent in pursuing His goals without any regard to the thought or feelings of others, so why does his chest ache so much whenever he sees Him anywhere? He does not know, but he believes to know one thing; He does not notice the long stares He receives from him, and if He is aware, then He makes it a point to not let it show.

He waits… and waits… and waits…

But no one notices him, not even Him, and soon the bell rings and everyone begins to file inside, but he still stays there, waiting for someone to speak to him and say something, anything at all, but no one does so, and so he finally moves as well. He is now fighting against tears, because big boys do not cry, and he is already twenty-three years old, so he should not be crying like he so wants to, and so he does not. Even if his heart screams and cries out, he will not let even one of them escape his throat as he traverses the halls to attend his classes.

His classes are not difficult to him, and he barely has to think, for he knows and understands most of what is being taught immediately, so much of the day he spends looking outside, staring to the horizon and dreaming. He dreams often, almost every night, and he recalls them all in perfect detail if he so wishes to do so, but more often than not, he chooses to forget, for they are most often dreams of one of three kinds.

It can be the type where he dares to confess his childhood crush that has grown into a pure, absolute love for Him, and then He tells him, a soft and tender whisper in his ear, that He loves him in return after he is pulled into an oh so gentle hug. If it is not that, then it will be a dream where he confesses, but where He cruelly rejects him, pushing him away and threatening him to never approach or to even speak to Him again, before He leaves him utterly alone. And if not that, it will be the one he fears to see the most, for it is a dream that is so hauntingly close to reality, that he sometimes fears that what he sees is actually real, for it is a dream of Him and _her_ getting married, having children, and growing old together, in which he can only watch from a distance, forever silent and heartbroken.

There are only a few times where he dreams of something, anything else, and he uses that for the art he makes here at university, art that people believe will someday hang in a museum. His art is unique, is what they say, and this has earned him a scholarship here so that he can properly pursue what they believe is the best path for him to take, but he disagrees that his art is unique, for it is based off a style of street art that existed until his seventeenth year, when it was all washed away. While he has his own style as well, he does not claim it to be his, for what he draws here at school is based on an art that he has long since admired.

And, sadly, it is also something that will take his mind back to Him, regardless of his initial thoughts. For it was He who had first shown him the art style he so loves, and he supposes, that if it had not been for Him, he might have never come as far as he has today. Yet it is also because of this that he comes to adore Him, slowly but surely, yet his feelings have steadily grown out to the point where merely hearing His voice over the phone sends his heart aflutter. And now, he can no longer ignore what he feels…

He loves Him…

…and yet all of His attention is focused on _her_ …

 _She_ is the younger sister of one of the friends he made through Him, but he knows very little about _her_ , only that _she_ also likes Him and has long since confessed that _she_ does so. _She_ is not a bad girl, but he cannot bring himself to like _her_ , like a friend, or anything else, for the fact will always remain that _she_ has taken Him away from his side, and he cannot forget or forgive… yet he cannot do anything else about it, either.

Because while he is in love with Him and wants so badly to be with Him, he places the highest priority on His happiness, for that is all that matters to him, as well; he wants Him to be happy, and if _she_ can make Him happy, then he will accept that and give them his blessing when that dreaded time comes. And yet a small part of him, squashed out by his own mind, wants to fight for Him, wants to fight so long and hard that he is willing to suffer through any sort of punishment if it will mean being together with Him.

But he knows, has known for a long time, that it is a lost battle.

He turns his head then, and looks to Him as He is feverishly taking notes of what is said, for math never was something He was good at. Long ago, he would have offered to be His tutor, but now that privilege is given to _her_ , for _she_ is also good at math, though he does not know if _her_ skills are of the same level as his own.

As he watches Him, he pulls out a small notebook, places it on his desk and begins to search for an empty page to use. When he finally finds one, he discovers that he will need a new notebook soon, for he is on the last few pages, making this the twentieth notebook he has filled the way he has. He makes a mental note that he will stop by the shop to get a new one as he takes a pen and starts.

He watches his own hand listlessly, as though the hand is moving on its own without any orders from his brain, as he pulls a curved line and then another and he makes small strokes as he draws, slowly but surely, watching as the image that appears is that of Him, as it always is, in a style that is truly his, and not a copy of the style of someone else. He watches the image take shape, no longer paying any attention at all, and he merely draws, lost in a world where only he exists and where he can dream what he wishes to dream.

He finishes just as the bell rings and he closes the book before anyone can see it, tenderly placing it back into his bag along with his other books and supplies and he hopes and prays that today, that He will approach him again and ask him for help…

But the result of his prayers is the same as it has been the entire week already, for when he looks up and gets up from his seat, He has already left the room. And once again, he has to fight back against tears as he walks out of the room, his shoulder bag resting securely under his arm, his hand clinging to the strap in a desperate attempt to calm his inner turmoil. He just cannot escape the feeling of abandonment he has been having for so long, for his friend, Him, _her_ , and even his ex-Stalker have not so much as glanced his way even once this week, let alone spoken to him about anything, and the week is already nearing its closure.

He cannot help but feel like they have all forgotten about him, like they cannot even see him, and he wonders sometimes if perhaps, just maybe, he has died and he is actually moving around as a spirit, haunting his own friends. But if that was the case, the teachers would surely not call for him every morning, and scribble down that he is present when he raises his hand to confirm he is there, nor would they give him back the tests he has made in their classes or his homework.

But then why…?

Why do the people he considers to be his friends no longer acknowledge him?

Why have they abandoned him?

These questions and so many more tumble through his head as he goes through the routine that school always brings every day, and by midday, he is sitting below one of the many staircases of the building, a half-eaten bento in his lap and a second, unopened one lying beside him. He is waiting for Him to join him, but he already knows that He will not come like He would have done before. Because His mother always makes His bento’s, and she is not a good cook in the least, anyone can agree to that, for many years, he has offered to share his bento with Him, before he began to make two when He said He could not rob him off his own food.

But ever since _she_ came into the picture, He has been eating with _her_ upon the roof, sharing only a single bento, and not even bothered by the fact that He is sharing it with another.

And he does not understand…

What is so different with sharing a bento with him and sharing one with _her_?

Why is He okay with having half of _her_ bento, but He cannot bring himself to accept half of his?

He plays a bit with his own food, his prodding and pushing with his chopsticks unfolding the rice balls he has made that day, and finds that he is not even hungry, as he has not been for a long time, yet he forces himself to eat, knowing that he will waste away if he does not. So he scoops up his food and shoves it into his mouth fighting back his tears still as he comes to the realization that He will not come today, either.

He does not know why he even bothers to make a second bento every day still, because every day, he has to throw the stale food away, and every time he does so, he feels like he is throwing a piece of himself away, because he always puts everything he has and more into it, just for Him. He does not know, and yet he keeps doing it, praying and hoping every day that things will go back to how they once were.

As he force-swallows the final part of his bento, he fools himself into thinking that the force of the gulp knocked loose the single tear that rolls down his cheek, but he does not wipe it away, and no more follow it down. Boys do not cry, after all… and even when some part of him asks if it is all right for a man to cry, he refuses to shed even one more tear.

People eventually begin to move down the halls, to do whatever they intend to do before their next class, but he does not move from his spot, waiting for someone, anyone, to take notice of him, but no one does so and he eventually gathers up his belongings to head to his own class. He feels like his body weighs five times more than he should as he walks, and he finds it difficult to breathe around the pain in his chest, but he forces himself to breathe slow and easy and his legs to move and take him up the stairs and to his class.

Does anyone even take notice of him? He wonders about that as he steps into the room, only a minute late. The teacher looks to him with a glare, then tells him to sit and be quiet, and then he goes back to his teaching. A few people snicker as he walks to his seat and sits down, but he ignores them and he only pulls out his books and pens. He listens silently to what is said, as he always does, and when they have time for themselves, he looks to the outside world again, wondering, wishing, praying, and waiting. He does not know what it is he is waiting for; perhaps for his life to turn around, but he is certainly not expecting it, despite how badly he wishes it to be true.

He turns back to his notebook and once more begins to draw, despite how his source of inspiration is not in the same room, for he knows every detail he needs from the back of his head, and he can summon it to the back of his eyelids at will. And again, his hand begins to move as though it has a mind of its own, and he only watches in utter silence, his eyes wistful and a little longing.

The day continues on like that, and no one speaks to him, not even the teachers to lecture him about how he is not even paying attention or doing something he should not have been doing during class. As he leaves the building behind, he looks around in an attempt to find his friends, but no matter how he looks, he cannot spot them so he thinks that they have all gone home already. And that is why he walks quietly to his bike, pulling out his keys from his jacket.

He is not expecting to be stopped in any way, so imagine his surprise when he walks to his bike and finds Him leaning up against it, a soft hum resonating from His throat as He taps His foot in a steady beat, waiting patiently, he knows. He has not been expecting this, for He has not spoken to him all throughout the week, nor approached him, so why is He standing there, waiting?

He waits a moment, waiting for Him to notice, but when He does not, he approaches further, and finally He looks up. A small smile that is more of a smirk is shown, a few of His pearly teeth visible in between His lips as He pushes Himself back upright.

“Hello, Sakuraba-kun.”

“…Kiryuu-kun…”

When have they reverted from calling each other by given name to using their family name? He does not know, but he has always gone along with it, despite how his voice is always begging to let out His given name, or even the nickname He has allowed him to call Him by.

“You made it quite late again… busy with your last work again?”

Late again… so He has noticed that he stays late after school, if only so that he can work in peace on his small, private project. But why does He bring it up now, he wonders, and he wants to ask, but he fears to know the answer, so he decides to leave the question unanswered.

“…Is something wrong? You don’t usually wait for me…”

Usually he says… but He used to wait for him a long time ago, he still remembers, no matter how long he stayed at school, He would always wait. But that has all stopped long ago, and he has long since given up on a chance for them to go home together like they have done so often when they were younger.

“Hihi… always getting right to the point, hm?” He giggles, for he cannot call that sound a chuckle, there is just no way he can. “But since you asked, we’ve been discussing about going to this new karaoke place that recently opened up. Care to join us?”

The invitation is a surprise, and he is not sure what to think of it, for it is the first time he has spoken to Him, or anyone, in almost a week, if not more, he has lost count long ago. The offer to join them is tempting, and he wants nothing more than to say yes and to join them once more, but he cannot say it as he wants to.

“…When did you want to go?”

“Around 8:30 tonight. Shouldn’t be that much of a problem, ne?”

As He says the time and day, he wants to cry, he wants to scream and just shatter something, for it is a time he cannot make even if he so dearly wishes to.

“…Sorry. I’m afraid I can’t make it tonight…”

“Oh… is that so?” He sounds almost disappointed, but His face shows nothing of it. “Well, maybe next time, then, alright?”

“…Sure…”

He wants to cry so much now, for He does not even question why he cannot make it or when he can make it so that they can make a new invitation. No, He merely says those words he has heard so many times already that they make him want to retch from how badly his stomach twists and knots itself.

_Maybe next time…_

“Well, don’t let me hold you up any longer. Ja ne, Sakuraba-kun.”

And He is gone, walking past him and not even waiting for his response, and he can only stand there, silently, wishing for the words he needs, but they do not appear, and then the moment is long gone and he is alone once again. He clutches the strap of his bag, as he tries to control his breath and his emotions, before he walks up to his bike and unlocks it quietly.

Once he is done with that, he climbs on and starts off quietly for his part-time job, since that is why he was unable to go with his friends to the karaoke bar, as he cannot take a day off on such a short notice if he intends to keep the job. And as much as he wants to spend time with his friends, he needs the money to keep the pitifully small apartment he lives in, so he cannot afford to miss even one day.

And so, when he arrives, he again locks up his bike and hurries inside, already in the middle of changing as he walks inside. No one looks up as he comes in, and as he finishes getting changed in his work uniform, he places his belongings into the small locker he has been provided so that they will be safe, before he goes to work wordlessly.

He does not think much as he works, for he knows that when he begins to think now, he will possibly break down, and then he will more than likely lose this job, too. He cannot afford to lose that, and so he works mindlessly, paying no heed to the people around him much and merely does what he is required to do.

School always seems to go so fast to him now, and work seems to go even faster, as though someone has struck the fast-forward button, but that is perfectly fine with him, for he just wants the week to end. And so, when evening rolls around, he heads for his apartment, though not before he gets an offer from his crazy math-addicted co-worker to go to some bar down the street. He debates, as he drives home, if it is a smart idea to do so, but he supposes it will be all right, because it is already weekend, so he does not have much to worry about when it comes to absence from a hangover at school.

He does not drink often, but when he does drink, he more often than not returns drunk to his apartment. Of course, he only goes when he is invited by his co-workers, because he does not have the leisure to spend his money on such things, and they understand that, of course, which is why they always pay for him, no questions asked.

And that is why he finally decides to go, after he makes a brief stop at his apartment and changes into something that is more suited for his nightly outing. It is black, all black, and it is tight, for he let his math-crazed co-worker talk him into getting it, but he has come to like it, the material is just so smooth, and sometimes he actually feels as though he is wearing only  a second layer of skin, that is how tightly it fits him. He puts a single ring of silver through the hole he has punctured in his left ear, something he had gotten after a lost bet with his senior’s girlfriend, and he applies a little bit of dark eye shadow, to bring out the dark blue of his own eyes, and he pours a little glitter into his hair, before he decides he is ready and he leaves, placing his keys in a special pocket in his pants that no one knows about for safe keeping. He also takes his ID card, but not his phone, for he does not want to be called by anyone when he is there, for it would certainly ruin the atmosphere, although he really doubts that someone will call him.

Finally, he walks out of the building and begins his walk down the two blocks it will take him to get to the bar. When he arrives, he sees his math-crazed co-worker standing on the sidewalk by the bouncer, tapping his foot rapidly and impatiently, possibly from waiting for him. Then his math-crazed co-worker spots him and immediately starts to shout, and he is glad he is not carrying the dreaded megaphone.

“SO ZETTA SLOW!! What took ya so long ya zetta son-a digit?!”

“…sorry.”

He does not want to fight, because he will lose, as he does not have the required volume of voice to match his math-crazed co-worker. His math-crazed co-worker snorts and adjusts his baseball cap, his bracelets making a quiet ringing sound as they clink together, before he grabs his arm and pulls him into the bar. The overly large bouncer with the goat head on his belt, who seems to be there every time they go, he believes, does not even look up, as he already knows them both.

Inside, the music he so loves to hear is already pouring from the speakers, upping the beat of his heart, the lights are dancing and flashing, people are mingling, laughing and dancing and sometimes even making out in some dark, shabby corner and he loves every second of it. It is a small little bar with little attention from large crowds, but the atmosphere has the regulars always coming back for more, himself included.

He is soon dragged to a booth where his other co-workers are already waiting, his senior’s girlfriend is already downing her so manyth drink, as her cheeks are already so red, but his senior is drinking a simple cassis, so he is probably going to be driving everyone home today, even him, even though he lives so close by. Then he also notices a female co-worker he works with often, and also her boyfriend, and he is a little surprised, because they rarely come with them to drink.

She sees him too and she squeals and moves to intercept him and his math-crazed co-worker and hugs him tightly.

“Nekkyyyyy! I almost thought you wouldn’t join us tonight!!”

“…hello Nao…”

Her boyfriend laughs as he is released and then pulled to sit beside his female co-worker, but he shows no signs of jealousy, because they all know that he has no interest in his female co-worker, as his interests have always been elsewhere.

“Heh. Good to see ya could make it, Phones.”

He does not remember when his senior started calling him that, but he supposes it does not even matter now, and he has already stopped long ago to correct his senior that it is not his name, for the call will go unanswered. He nods in response and accepts the drink that is slid to him from across the table, taking a quiet sip from the liquid, ignoring how it always seems to burn its way down his throat.

They start talking then, though his math-crazed co-worker is actually shouting half the time, partially because he is trying to overshoot the music, and partially because that is simply how he is, and he finds himself occasionally talking in response to certain quips, though never much, and he continues to drink silently.

One, two, three… how many has it been now, he wonders to himself, and he looks at the clock, but he finds himself unable to read the time. How strange, because he knows that he should have no problems with it, yet he cannot tell time at all…

When he looks, his senior has gone with his girlfriend to dance, and his female co-worker is also pulling her boyfriend off to dance. And his math-crazed co-worker has already drank so much that he is almost in a coma, or so he appears, anyway, and he sighs softly, bringing up his glass and downing the last drops of his drink. Maybe he can go get a new one… he is still feeling a little thirsty, so maybe he will do just that…

He gets up then, taking note to not disturb his comatose math-crazed co-worker, and begins to walk, though he is a bit surprised that his legs feel a bit weak, but he merely pinches his thigh, and  forces himself to move to the bar to get himself another drink. His throat is so parched… he _really_ needs that drink… he _really_ does…

Somehow he is able to avoid most of the dancing couples, but a few bump into him and he stumbles into the wall a few times, but he keeps going on and on. But then someone bumps into him from behind and he loses his balance, trips over his own two feet and then pitches forward…

Yet somehow he does not hit the floor like he knows he is supposed to, and it takes him a few moments to realize that someone has caught him around his waist from the side before his face could hit the hard, cold floor below him. After a few more moments of him hanging in midair like that, which is quite a strange experience, if he does say so himself, he is pulled back up to his feet, though he is still a tad unsteady on his feet.

“That was quite a tumble, was it not?”

He looks up at the voice, confused and a little disoriented, and his vision was actually not looking too nice, either, though he can still see just fine, really, and he finds himself more than a little more confused than he already is, as he is about to speak His name, until he realizes that what he is thinking is both silly and stupid, for He would never come to such a place, he knows… so who are they?

Their hair is the same light silvery blonde, but there are a few locks that stick up in waves and the ends are dyed a light purple, and two locks move along their cheeks and under their eyes, which are not the color he is used to but are instead a deep, deep green that reminds him briefly of the trees in the park near his childhood home. They are dressed in white, which is a little surprising, since usually those who come here are all in black, and not in such light colors, but it suits them, he supposes, and they have some purple-bluish lip-gloss on their bottom lip only. He does not know who they are, but surely, they are the most unique person here, he believes…

“…S’rry…”

He gets up to his feet but he almost stumbles again, yet they help him and keep him on his feet with a quiet chuckle.

“Goodness… I believe you have had quite enough tonight, have you not?”

“…di’ not…”

“Oh? Do tell, how many glasses have you had already?”

He frowns a bit, and he tries to remember how many he has had, and he absently counts a bit under his breath, but he has forgotten entirely how much he has had tonight.

“…maybe… 5?”

They chuckle, almost kindly, and shake their head, disagreeing, it seems, but why?

“I believe, dear, that you’ve had quite enough tonight.”

“…but ‘m thirs’y…”

“Haha. I suppose tis difficult to argue with that. Very well. Let us get you something to drink, though I shall advise you to not have any more alcoholic beverages.”

“…mmkay…”

He does not mind what he gets… he just wants to drink something, anything to get rid of his parched throat. It is so difficult to walk, though, and he finds himself leaning on their shoulder as they walk with him, though he is sure it is not that far that he needs to be guided like that, even if his legs feel like they are made of jelly.

When he blinks next, they are helping him to get on one of the stools, while they call the man behind the bar and order a drink, something like cinder and whatnot, but really, he does not care as long as it is a liquid. It takes a few moments, that take much too long for him, before he is given a glass with some kind of weird liquid that he has not seen before, but he is so thirsty, he really cannot care about its color, or its taste, really, so he takes it and drinks it all down in one go.

“Dear me, you really _are_ thirsty, are you not?”

“…mhmm…”

“Haha. Very well then. One more?”

“…uh-huh.”

He really does not care… he just wants to drink and, hopefully, that will help him to forget, or maybe it will knock him into a coma, too, that will be nice…

So he takes the next drink and swallows it too, ignoring how they are chuckling beside him, sounding almost amused, for that is not important now. He merely drinks and allows himself to forget about everything, or so he wishes, for he finds that, just as always, he cannot forget or ignore the pain in his heart, and that is why he finally stops, with only half a glass left.

“Hm? Is something wrong, dear?”

He does not respond right away, but he does turn around sideways so that he can look at them, and now he focuses on their face. He finds it to be very similar to His, but he can still tell it’s not, because He does not have such thin eyes, though they are not overly thin, and maybe that only appears to be so because they have their eyes shut partially, or so he thinks. It is really strange… how much they look like Him, yet not at the same time.

“Yes? Is there something on my face?”

They say those words as they move aside a lock of hair, but it falls right back and he notices what long nails they have, painted black, which stand out a lot with their white clothes, but it suits them.

“…nah…”

He shrugs one shoulder lightly and takes a small sip from his drink, and he wonders, absently, if they would listen if he tells them about why he is drinking so much as he is, why he is trying to forget and whatnot. Maybe not, though, and they may just go away, leaving him alone again. Maybe…

“…woul’ ya listen if I said ‘m unhappy?”

They look at him quietly for a moment, head tilted sideways, but he does not mind much, for he knows it is probably a silly question to ask a total stranger, and he also knows that many normal people would not want to know when they are trying to have a good time and escape their own problems and worries.

“Truly? If that is correct, what cruel twist of fate has life given you, dear?”

…they will listen…? Really…?

“…jus’… lately… ‘s like ev’ryun’s fergott’n ‘bout me… ‘m righ’ there… but they dun notice me… dun talk ta me… nothin’… ‘n’ when they do talk… ‘s jus’ ta ask me ‘long ta somewhere I can’ go ta ‘coz I got work…”

“My word… and never a question about when you _can_ go with them?”

He shakes his head, recalling how He had not even asked why he could not go and merely said…

“…maybe nex’ time… tha’s all they say…”

He runs a finger along the edge of his glass, listening to its soft hum and watching the small amount of liquid left in his glass, and he wonders to himself if it was worth telling them about it, but he has to say, he does feel a bit better now that he has been able to tell another person about his troubles and knowing that that person is listening and watching him patiently and is not looking through or past him. He blinks once, and he almost winces when he realizes he has accidentally let a tear escape from his eye.

“You poor dear…”

When the back of a finger wipes the tear and its track away, he looks over to them, confused, and he is a bit surprised to see them looking so… sad? He thinks they are sad, at least, since he is not used to be people being saddened by his problems, let alone a total stranger, although he has to admit, the thought is nice.

“You must have been so alone… however did you last so long without breaking down into tears?”

“…dunno… jus’ did…”

Is that his voice…? Why does it sound so… raspy…? More importantly… why were his eyes leaking so much? He does not recall giving them permission to do that, so why are they doing such a stupid thing?

“…nrgh… s’rry… I shoul’n’t… shoul’n’t be…”

“Ssshh…”

They interrupt him and put both their hands on his cheeks, using their thumbs to wipe away the tears that keep coming and coming and coming without end…

“There is no shame in crying over such sadness that lies in your heart… Tis better for you to release such feelings before it shatters your very soul.”

“But…”

What they do then startles him into silence, for they move forward and begin to kiss his tears away, and then they kiss the corners of his eyes, as one of their hands move from his cheek into his hair, the fingers gently massaging his scalp. He does not know what else to expect, but he does not say anything, though his tears keep coming, and he does not understand why.

“Come… let’s get you washed up a tad, shall we?”

“…sure…”

He finishes his drink quietly, and then he stumbles after them, even though they are still holding him up and walking so close that their hipbones almost appear connected. The sound of the music that floats around the bar soon dies and he winces at the brightness of the washroom, bringing up a hand to protect his eyes.

They lightly tug him over to the sinks and pull loose a piece of paper from the small dispenser set up, and begins to dry his eyes, wiping the long tracks away, so gently, that he begins to wonder, why are they doing this?

He does not know why, and he does not know how to ask it, so he just waits and stays there for a while, though he is a bit surprised when he realizes that, while he was not looking, he has been seated up on the sink. Yet he has no time to act on it, because when it dawns on him, they bring up one hand and thread those long fingers into his hair again, and he almost moans as they massage his scalp so gently. Their fingers are just so tender, and so warm, that he cannot help but lean into the touch.

“You poor dear… you have done nothing to deserve such pain.”

He blinks once, unsure of what they mean, but then they move closer and place a soft, tender kiss upon the corner of his mouth, an action that should have made him flinch away, but he feels only a strange, fuzzy bubbling in his stomach that he wants to blame on his drinks, but he wonders to himself if that is really so…

And then they move closer, but not close enough, and they look deeply into his eyes, and he can only look back as deeply, even with his vision being so… blurry.

“I believe, it is better if you were returned home safely.”

“…a’ready…?”

“Yes, dear, already. Come, I will take you home safely.”

“…mmm… kay…”

Really, is it a good idea to go with them when he has only met them just tonight, he wonders, but maybe it is better if he does go back, because, if he is honest, he does want to go home and sleep, and then wake up and hopefully feel a bit better. So he slowly slips off from the sink, but his legs immediately give away and he falls forward into them, clinging tightly to their shirt with his face landing against their chest, which is a little painful because he hits his nose as he does so.

They chuckle softly, and he looks up slowly, trying to ask about what is so funny, but his voice will not come out, and even less when they crouch down and then gently loop one arm under his knees, before they stand and lift him up in their arms. Maybe if he was not so drunk, he would have made a fuss about being carried around like a woman, but he is drunk and very much so, and so he does not offer any sound of complaint with the exception of a slightly surprised gasp, his arms moving around their neck on their own just to make sure he will not fall on his rear if he does fall.

And then they start to walk, and he is a little startled at the rocking motion of their stride, but he has to admit that it is a soothing motion and he almost feels like he can go to sleep right here and now, but he is still not drunk enough to do that, because he knows that he has to go home, still. Gradually, they leave the bar behind, without even informing his co-workers in the least, but he cannot bring himself to care, and then they are outside, where it is quiet, and he feels a little relieved, because the noise was starting to hurt his ears just a little bit.

“All right, now, should I call a taxi to get you home safe?”

“…tax… no no no…”

A taxi is a definite no-no, because a taxi is expensive, and he does not want to spend too much money if he can do things in a much cheaper way, like a bicycle, or walking, though a bicycle will be an equally bad idea now… he probably cannot even hold the wheel properly and he could turn it so he goes backwards and that would just be a silly thing to do.

“No? Okay then, dear, how do you suggest we go, hm?”

He blinks wearily, and it takes a little while for the question to register, but then it finally hits him and he brings up a hand to point.

“…tha way… ‘s down tha way…”

“Hehe. Very well, dear.”

He points them in the right direction and they follow his words without a word of complaint, or wondering how he can still remember his way home when he can barely remember his own name, but he does not care too much, because he just wants to go home and then go to sleep. He holds on tight and rests his head  on their shoulder, watching quietly as the area around him becomes more and more familiar, and, feeling a little bit childish, he kicks his legs a little bit, and he hears them chuckle, but they do not say anything, and just walk, occasionally asking what way to go.

Finally, they reach his apartment building, and he wants to be put down because he is certain that he can walk this last part on his own, and they chuckle again, and do as he wants, though they do not let him go just yet, insisting that they do not want him to tip over and hurt his face, because, as they say, he has a very pretty face, which he does not quite believe, but he is a little too drunk to object properly. So instead, he only stumbles along, almost tipping over after only three steps, but they are there to keep him upright, and he starts to head for the elevator, because he does not want to go up two floors by the stairway, which is… about 28 steps straight up? No, definitely not…

He just wants to sleep right now, and he almost falls over a few times, but they manage to keep him awake, somehow, and he then finally stumbles out of the elevator and toward his little apartment, and he tries to remember for a few moments where he has hidden his keys, before he finally remembers where they are.

“…ah… so ‘noyin’…”

“Hm? What do you me--”

He hears them gasp sharply as he undoes his belt and the button of his pants, to give himself some space to wriggle his hand down along the inside of the article of clothing, allowing him to slip his digits into the hidden pocket where he keeps the keys to his apartment, though it takes a little to get the keys out along with his fingers. He is glad he is able to do it alone, and he also praises himself when he manages to find the good key, even if it takes a little longer than it normally does, but he cannot get the stupid key in the stupid hole.

“Here, dear… allow me.”

They gently take the key from his hand and slip it into the hole, showoff, and they try to twist the handle downward, but they look at it strangely when it does not budge, almost making him want to laugh, but he is just too tired to do so, so he reaches out and takes hold of their hand and the handle.

“…wrong way… like this…”

Up goes the handle and then slide goes the door into the wall, and he moves forward one, two, three steps and then he drops forward and onto his bed, allowing himself a small moan of appreciation as the mattress bounces him up slightly before he is able to settle.

“…this… this is your house?”

“…partment… ‘n’ yeah… close the door…”

Slide goes the door, and he hears them walking over, before the bed dips down to his side, but he does not look up and instead drags himself further onto the bed, until his shoe-covered feet hang over the edge and he tries to get rid of those annoying things with just his feet, because they are being oh so annoying now and he just wants them off so badly. It does not take long because of his actions for them to reach down and undo the laces and then slip the shoes off so that he can climb completely on the bed, so that he can bury his face into his pillow, and he allows a short moan of enjoyment as he gets comfy.

“…Already asleep, dear?” they chuckle out and he groans.

“…shush… wanna sleep…”

“Okay, okay, dear… but I have to ask you something before that.”

“…what?”

“Why do you live in such a small… apartment?”

“…dun have much stuff… ‘n’ ‘s the most I coul’ ‘fford…”

Why is he even saying so to a total stranger, he wonders softly to himself, but he has no answer to his own question, and so he does not bother with it for long, and instead holds tight to his pillow, his eyes already closed and he has every intent of falling asleep. But when there is a soft touch to his head, he manages to open one eye and looks up to them, and they look down on him with a sad look that he does not remember seeing on the face of anyone he has ever known, and he wonders why they are so sad, because surely, he is not worthy of another person’s sadness, is he?

“You poor, poor dear… You should not have to suffer so…”

He does not understand what they mean, for he surely does not suffer with the room he is in now, even if the apartment is only two rooms; the bathroom that doubles as laundry room, and the bedroom that he and they are in right now that doubles as living room, kitchen and dining room, with the larger than normal double bed positioned precisely in the center of the room. Everything he needs is kept in the bedroom, for his clothes are placed in neat stacks under the bed in a large drawer, as well as the few pairs of shoes he owns and his ironing board. He lives alone, so he does not need to share, and in a way he is glad, because he has a feeling that not many could live with so little supplies as he can.

They touch his head again, and move aside his bangs, seeming to think, before they move down and place their mouth over his own. He is surprised, of course, and he moves back quickly and pushes up on shaky arms, watching them with a frown that looks more like a pout in his current intoxicated state, though he of course cannot see it.

“Wha was tha fer…?”

They smile in response, and he is not entirely sure if he should be afraid now, because he surely does not feel it, though maybe that is also because of the alcohol in his system. They reach out and gently place a hand on his neck, and he cannot help but shiver, though he does not understand why.

“Alone for so long… surely not even you could withstand such feelings for long… Do you not wish to be connected to another, to ward off those feeling of despair?”

The few sober brain cells he has left are now screaming at him, saying that what is about to happen is wrong, so very very wrong and that he should run away and hide, but his body refuses to obey his mind’s command, and allows himself to be pulled closer, until his and their lips are only a breath apart.

“Allow me to help you… let me make you feel whole again…”

They kiss him again then, full on the mouth, and he feels his body shudder and he almost collapses, but they catch him and gently place him down on his back, those long fingers running over him and setting his skin on fire, and he breaks away with a slightly strangled cry. But they do not say anything about the outburst and begin to kiss and suck on his neck and he whimpers, feeling the small hairs at the back of his neck standing on end as his blood heats beneath his skin.

Slowly, gently, as though he is the most precious thing in the world to them, they slip his shirt up, bit by bit, until it can go no higher and rests around his collarbone, and he hears a low groan, and it takes a few moments before he realizes it is his own, and he wants to scream. His heart is beating so hard and so fast now, torn between wanting this feeling and not wanting it, for he had long since promised himself he would never give himself like this to someone he did not love, and yet here he is, his body betraying his heart and clinging to them like a baby clinging to its mother. He does not want to give himself away so easily, but he is in so much pain from being ignored for so long, that he cannot say no as they switch attention to his chest, licking and sucking ever downward, fingers already on his hips and rubbing the skin along the bone there, before they slip under the cloth of his pants.

His mind is wailing now, telling him to make them stop, to throw them out and lock the door tight, but his treacherous body will not let him, as they oh so slowly slip off his pants, those thin fingers with their long nails smoothing out his skin so gently, that his heart weeps from how badly he is longing to be touched like this, so much that it hurts, for the person making him feel this way now, is not the person he wants them to be.

He breathes out painfully, his eyes shut tight and his fingers clawing at his sheets and his pillow, seeking for something, anything, to grant him some kind of support as he steadily sinks down within a sea of pleasure, but then they touch him lower and he cries, as he begins to realize just how far this will go and he feels the tears pooling from his eyes and he is unable to stop them. He already knows this will hurt, hurt like nothing he has ever gone through before and he is not sure if he is ready for it, even if his body is saying he is.

“Ssssh… it’s all right, dear, it’s all right…”

They say so as they kiss away the tears so tenderly, and he slowly looks up, trying not to cry any more but finding it to be impossible, for their fingers do not move away and he wails.

“Do not fear, dear… I’ll be gentle… you’ve no reason to be afraid…”

“…aahhhh… d… dun… dun call me… call me dear…”

He hates it, when it comes from the mouth of strangers, because he is immediately reminded of Him, the person who used to call him that long ago, the person he wants to be with so badly that it physically hurts him. It hurts so badly that he can barely breathe.

They pause for a brief moment, before they ask of him: “Then what will you have me call you?”

He almost speaks his name, but even when he is as drunk as he is, he knows better than to do so, and so all that comes out from his mouth is: “…S… Sak… Saku… ra… raba…”

They repeat his name quietly, and then they smile gently before they move to kiss him again. They keep breathing into his ear to not be scared, that they will be careful to not hurt him, that everything will be all right, but his heart does not agree. He made a promise and he is on the verge of breaking it into a million pieces, and on one hand he wants to safeguard his promise with everything he has, but he has been alone for so long, and he cannot bring himself to make them stop to prevent his promise from being shattered.

He wants it, but he does not want it, he needs it so badly, but he knows that this is not what his heart truly needs and he is torn between what he wants and what he needs, and he cannot bring himself to decide which of the two is the most important.

A soft kiss to his lips, and they slip his arms around their broad, bare shoulders, whispering to him to hold on to them, and he knows that this is the final point, for after this is the point of no return. But he cannot speak about what he wants, as his fingers dig into those hard shoulders, praying and wishing for something to tell him if this is what he was meant to do.

But then they move and he cries.

_It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts_

He is crying now and trying to push away, but they hold tight, keeping him still even as he cries about the pain, and yet he knows he has only himself to blame, because he knew from the beginning that it would hurt, knew that he would regret it, he knew… and yet he still went through with it…

“Sssh… shush, Sakura… just relax… ssshh, it’s all right, dear, I’m here for you… ssh… Breathe, dear, go on, deep breath, deep breath…”

He tries, heaven knows he tries, but it is just so hard because it just hurts so much, and he clings to them as they link their hands with his, letting him squeeze until there is no more feeling there, even as they move to lick the tears away.

“…it… it h-hurts… p-please… n-no more… oh god it hurts…”

“Sakura, dear, calm down… take a deep breath, go on… there we go… deep breath… that’s it… just relax… that’s good… just like that…”

He chokes on his own tears, even though the pain is now mostly gone, because he cannot help but be afraid, afraid of his own tortured soul as his body begs for more, his mind screams to stop, and his heart cries in agony. They run gentle hands through his hair, kissing away every tear and whispering sweet words of comfort into his ear that he cannot hear.

_No more no more it hurts it hurts why why please please I want I need I can’t I…_

When they move back slowly, he whimpers softly, his body shaking as he clings tightly to them, and then he lets out a quiet cry that barely escapes his throat as they move forward again, moving slowly and so gently and holding him close enough to kiss him, as they continue to kiss away all his tears.

His body betrays both his heart and his mind, and he no longer has the desire to break away as a tingle runs through his back and along his arms and down his legs and it makes his toes curl into the mattress and his fingers claw at their back. They are so gentle with him, so careful and watchful of his pain, they look at him with care and concern, a look he has missed more than he wishes to admit, because it is a look that means without a shadow of doubt that he is loved and cherished and precious…

He has always been alone…

Always abandoned…

Always unnoticed…

_Enough…_

Enough is enough…

He wants… needs to feel loved… it does not even matter by who now… he just needs to know he is still alive… needs to know that someone out there cares whether he lives to see another day or whether he is to die overnight… that someone will cry for him if he is no longer there…

And yet… as his eyes close tight, the face that watches him, the hands that touch him, the voice that whispers to him, does not belong to them, he knows… and he cries soundlessly, because the person he so badly wishes to be with is not there… will never be there…

He sobs as he holds on tight, and he clings to them like a drowning man to a life preserver, for his chest hurts so much now, that it is almost impossible to breathe, and he chokes on a cry that he cannot even grasp the meaning of as they whisper almost continuously in his ear, a string of sweet words and endearments that seek desperately to soothe his pain in any way they can, their hands sliding over his skin so gently and caring and he knows that this is just too much for him to bear…

His voice fails him as his vision goes white, even behind eyelids that are shut tight, and his body shakes and he feels them shake as well as they choke on a sharp gasp as he stills. It is so hot then, and he can no longer hold on as his hands slip to land on the bed, his body losing all the strength it needs to support itself, but he does not even care about it in the least, even when they rest beside him, pulling him close to them and holding on tight, gently kissing the back of his shoulder a few times, murmuring to him gently in words he does not comprehend, and he wonders if it is even Japanese… but it does not matter…

Nothing matters anymore… he is too tired… physically, mentally… he just wants to sleep and wake up to find that everything was a bad dream… so that hopefully this horrible pain in his chest will go away.

That is all that passes through his mind before his consciousness fades away, as the foundation of a fragile house of cards that is his life is set up.


	2. Stage Beta - The Buildup

A pair of deep green eyes stare down at him when he awakes in the morning, with a small smile playing along the face that belongs to them, as they are leaning on one elbow and watching him as he struggles against the sleep that is trying so hard to keep him under. His head hurts, and he is confused about why they are here, as he finds that his memory is more than a little fuzzy, but then his memory returns and he feels his stomach twisting in dread, which, he soon discovers, is not a good idea. His stomach twists and turns so violently that it forces all his stomach still holds upward along his throat and to his mouth, forcing him to cover his mouth to keep it in.

He tries to get up and get to the washroom, but his head is still spinning and he can barely stand. They help him to stand without anything being said and move to the washroom, not fast enough that he will throw up immediately because of the motion but still fast enough for him to make it so he can safely eject all the alcohol he has taken in only the previous night, as well as some of his meager dinner. He coughs and whines as they rub his back and shoulders gently while he gasps and chokes on his own breath.

They place a soft kiss on his temple to comfort him and as much as he wants to say something about it, he does not trust his voice at this point in time, so he remains silent and attempts to get his breath back. He can smell his own breath and he chokes at the rancid stench, as he slowly moves back, still gasping to get the air back in his lungs.

“There… are you feeling better now?”

“…why’re you still here…?” asks he instead, because he cannot shake it off so easily, and he needs to know why it is that they decided to stay there.

“Hm? Did you wish me gone, then?”

Yes, he wishes to say, but his voice dies almost the instance he wants to say it as he struggles against a cough when his stomach attempts to throw out more, but he has nothing left to throw up, and thus he dry-heaves almost painfully, and he tells himself, as he does every time he wakes with a hangover as painful as this one, that he will never drink again for the rest of his life. But he knows very well that that is a promise he cannot keep, because the next time he is asked, he will still come with and he will still drink until he drops into a coma.

“Shush, shush, now. It is okay, so just relax,” they say as they gently rub their hands over his back. “Sshh… come now; shall we get you washed up?”

Washed up… that certainly sounds good, but he has a feeling that this will include having them in the shower as well, which is not something he is looking too forward to, yet he also knows that he will be unable to properly support himself for a little while, at the very least, which means he has no choice if he really wants to be thoroughly clean again after such a long night.

“…nrgh… wh… whatever…”

A chuckle is their only response, before he is lightly tugged up to his feet, and he stumbles into them, and yet they manage to keep standing, and guide him to the shower, and he has to hold onto their arm which is placed along his waist for him to keep standing on his own two feet. He cries out when the chilly water hits his skin and he attempts to move back, but he hits them instead and they chuckle when he almost loses his footing. He cannot object as they lead him into the cabin, under the spray of water that is gradually heating up, but he allows a small groan of satisfaction as the water begins to soothe all of his sore muscles and soak him throughout.

“Oh? This is interesting…”

“…huh?”

“Your hair,” they say, reaching out and moving a lock of hair from his bangs out of his eyes. “It does not seem the slightest bit affected by the water.”

“…yeah I know… ‘s weird…”

“Oh no, I do not mean to say it is weird. Actually, I think it is rather endearing.”

“I-it really isn’t!”

They merely chuckle and run their long fingers through his hair and he cannot stop the moan that comes from his throat as they drag the finger pads along his scalp. He wants to pull away from them so badly, but he fears that if he does, he will end up flat on his face, and in the washroom, that really is not a good idea to do, so he stays silent and lets them help him, despite how much it hurts his pride to have to accept help from someone whose name he does not even know in any way shape or form.

“What is the matter, dear?”

“…don’t call me–”

“Ah, right, my apologies. But really now, are you all right, Sakura-kun?”

Is he all right, they ask, of course he is not, is that really so hard to understand? Do they not realize what he and they have done last night and how much impact this has on his life? Do they not understand the pain of his heart being crushed beneath the guilt he feels over breaking a promise that has always meant so much to him?

The answer comes within a second to him; of course they do not, and why would they, after all? He is not worth any sort of attention, and in the end, no one really knows or cares about his problems, because there is no reason for them to do so.

“…Sakura, ssshh… it will be okay…” they say, and he does not understand why he is pulled against them until he blinks and feels his own hot tears rolling along his cheeks, as a sob wrenches itself loose from his throat and his legs quiver under his own weight. “Hush, hush… ssshh, it will be okay… go on, just take a deep breath… go on… there we go… steady breaths, Sakura-kun… steady… breathe in… and breathe out… in… and out… good. Just like that… just relax…”

He sniffles and reaches for his eyes, wiping away his tears wordlessly, too embarrassed to speak of them, because boys do not cry, after all…

“Sakura-kun… it is okay to cry,” they say tenderly, running a hand through his bangs as their other hand rests over his heart.

“No it’s not… boys don’t…”

“Ah, but you are not a boy anymore, are you?”

“…”

“It is true; all say that boys do not cry… but no one ever speaks of men not being allowed to cry, do they?”

“…n… no…”

“Do you see now? There is really no need to be embarrassed over shedding a few tears.”

He supposes that they have a point, and this has always been something that has often given him pause; boys do not cry, is what everyone says, but he is not a boy… does that mean that he can cry whenever?

“Sakura-kun…” their voice whispers softly, then, drawing him from his thoughts. “What I am about to tell you might seem heartless of me, perhaps even cruel, but please hear me out, okay?”

He does not expect to hear words like that from them, but the way they say the words make him hesitate, and he almost says that he does not want to hear, but they sound almost sincere when speaking, and he wants to believe so badly that it is real… that someone truly cares, that he allows his head to tilt down in a small nod.

“Thank you… I do not know what it must feel like, to love someone who loves another, but I can tell just by looking at you that it must be so painful… though perhaps _excruciating_ is a better word for it… And, while I admire your devotion, I cannot keep this to myself; it is better for you to move on, to learn to love someone who can love you in turn. Ah, I am not done yet,” they say, using a finger to keep him from speaking, “I know I may sound cruel, but I am saying this for your own sake; you are only hurting yourself by continuously pining over a love that will likely never be. And I do not wish to see someone like you destroying themselves; you do not deserve such torment, no one does.”

He wants to speak, but he does not know what to say anymore, for all they say is truthful; it _is_ painful, it _is_ excruciating, but it is also _so_ very difficult to let go, for he has been in love for almost eight years and yet his love had not shown any signs of weakening, as it had appeared to have done the exact opposite and had only grown in strength until it threatened to consume him whole. He knows that what they say makes sense and that he needs to stop pining over something that cannot be, but his heart will not allow him, or is it his mind that is keeping him from moving on? He does not know the answer to this question, but he does know that, even if he is able to move on, it will be virtually impossible to love a person as he has come to love Him.

“Sakura-kun…”

The call is quiet, but they do not seem to expect an answer and merely place a soft kiss on his temple, and he feels his body shiver in response to the tender gesture, unused to the gentle touch after so long of being unnoticed and alone, and when they run a hand through his hair, he almost starts to cry again, but he holds his tears in, with a lot of difficulty.

“Come… let’s get you dressed properly, shall we?”

“…sure…”

They lead him gently into the living room, and sit him down on the bed before they start to looks around for something to wear for them both, but he really cannot bring himself to care about what he wears now, because it really does not matter to him right now. He does not even pay attention to them, even though he should, because they are still a complete stranger to him, and they could just rob him blind and he will never know until they are already long gone, but that is because, for a reason he cannot explain even to himself, he feels like he can trust them to not betray him, though perhaps this also has to do with how he is just so tired of being alone for so long that he is willing to accept the company of anyone, even that of a total stranger.

“There we go,” they say when they are finally done, and he looks to what he is wearing and is slightly happy that it does not clash, though with his wardrobe, it is pretty difficult to do so, because the majority of his clothes are all from the same brand. “Sakura-kun…” they say then and rest their hands upon one of his own on his knee, and he looks to them where they are crouched before him, wearing the same clothes as the night prior, having no change of clothes here and with the lipstick and eye shadow washed away because of the shower, but he finds that it makes very little difference in their appearance; their lips are so pale that it almost seems like he still wearing it, or maybe that is just a trick of the light, and his eyes only seem to be brighter because of it. “I apologize.”

“…for what?”

“Well, for two things, truthfully. Firstly; I wish to apologize for my actions last night. It was… how to say… inconsiderate of me to not take your feelings into account, but I could not hold myself back, and while I wish I am capable of blaming the alcohol in my system, I will not even try. I am well aware that a mere apology will not be enough, but–”

“It… it’s okay…” he says before he can stop himself, and when the words are out, he feels like kicking himself to his shin, hard, because he had not been planning to forgive them for last night until they had opened their mouth about it and thus he damns them for screwing not just with him but also with his head.

“…Is it really?” they ask him, but their tone of voice says they see through to his thoughts and that they know that they are not forgiven so easily, and possibly never will be. “Well… thank you. And, secondly; I wish to apologize for saying what I said in the shower. I do not know in what kind of situation you truly are, but I, as an outsider, have no business in your affairs. However, I do not regret saying them, for I do not wish to see you saddened much longer.”

“…? Much… longer? Wh… what do you…?”

“…I have been watching you, Sakura-kun. For the past month and a half, I’ve watched you whenever you and your… friends?”

“…co-workers…”

“Ah, my apologies… But yes, I’ve watched you for so long, and I saw that haunted, almost _tormented_ , gaze in your eyes… and it ripped me apart to see you tear yourself to pieces as you did.” They pause to move his bangs out of his eyes with just his fingertips, but the strands fall right back into place. “Approaching you last night, I almost did not dare to, but you seemed so vulnerable, that I could not leave you alone as you were…”

He has never heard anything remotely like this; surely, there were girls who would say they have watched him for a while, but none would ever say precisely what they had just told him. And it hurts so badly, that a random stranger has been able to see how terribly unhappy, hurt and lonely he felt, when those whom he had once called his closest friends have not been able to see beyond his wall of silence, have been unable to hear how his heart has been screaming to them to notice him, to pay attention to him. He almost wants to cry again, but he holds the tears in, because he has shed too many tears already, and he refuses to shed even one more.

“Sakura-kun…” they say softly, as they cup his face with one slim, soft hand. “Please do not think ill of me for springing this question upon you so suddenly, but I must ask; would you consider to give ‘us’ a try?”

“…’Us’?” he asks of him, not understanding what they mean, but his heart clenches soon as he feels that he knows what they mean, but he waits still for them to confirm or deny what it is they mean.

“What I mean by this, is if you would like to go out with me,” they say kindly, still cupping his face, but before he can recoil away, they speak again. “Yes, I know that this is sudden, and possibly also unwanted, but do you recall what I said earlier? It would be better for yourself if you found someone else; someone who could hopefully learn to love you in turn.” They then run a hand through his hair before speaking again. “I do not need to know your answer immediately, but, please, I wish to ask you to at least consider it.”

What is one supposed to say to such words, he wonders to himself, as he looks down to his hands pointedly, making it clear that he has no answer right now, as much as he would have wished he can just tell them that he can never consider it. He cannot say those words, however, because they have been nothing but kind to him, even last night, ever mindful of his pain, even if it had only been the physical kind, and he wonders absently if, perhaps, it would indeed be better for him to accept what they have offered him…

“…I… I’ll think about it…”

They smile in response, and they do not appear overly worried, even though his answer can still end up becoming a no, before they say: “Very well. Shall I give you my number so that you can reach me when you have thought of your answer?”

“…sure…”

It takes him a few seconds to relocate his phone, which he soon realizes is still where he has left it last night, in one of his shoes hidden under his bed, and when he finally finds it, he gives it to them after flicking it open. They give him a soft smile as they take it and move to sit beside him, expertly maneuvering their thumb over the buttons, and he cannot help but lean a little sideways to look over their shoulder as they type, and when he sees their first name, he cocks his head and repeats it softly. They smile and say that they think it is a name that suits them, though they will not say explicitly why, though he can guess why they think so, really, because one look at their current wardrobe makes him think of the bird after which they are named.

He gets his phone back and a small kiss to his right temple, which is something he did not expect, but he does not say anything about it as he tucks the purple gadget into his pocket as he and they climb up to stand and move to the door. They watch the door with a half-smile and reach for the handle and turn it upward, saying: “I’ve got it now,” but they do not open the door immediately, and instead turn to face him. “Sakura-kun, I know that what I have asked is not an easy decision to make, and I understand you may need some time to think it over… All I ask is that when you have reached your decision, whether you accept or decline, that you will call me.”

“…yeah…”

What is he supposed to say, he asks himself as they smile at him, then slide the door open and leave with a small wave to him, which he, weakly, returns before they disappear down the staircase and he allows himself to shut the door. He leans against its frame and he clenches his eyes as his heart pounds so hard and fast that he can feel its pulse in his throat, as it almost feels like something is ripping the organ out from his chest by slowing twisting it loose from its safe haven.

Their words keep echoing in his head, and he is so confused and lost that he does not know what to do any longer. He is not hungry or thirsty, but he is not sleepy either, and he hates to walk around with no purpose, so where does that leave him?

Unable to reach a decision, he eventually just lets himself fall back on his bed and searches around for a while, before he finds what he was searching for by the left side of the bed, on the floor, just where he has placed it before. He hugs it close to his chest and curls up into himself on the bed, not to go to sleep, of course, but he is merely trying to push aside the loneliness that once again starts to form in his heart, and he shuts his eyes, wishing quietly for some sort of sign, anything at all, to tell him what he is meant to do now. He does not want to be alone any longer… but he does not want to lose the love he has nurtured for so many years, either… so… what is left for him?

No answer comes to him, and, despite his best intentions, he falls to sleep as tears roll from his eyes to soak his pillow through.

When his consciousness returns, it is to the shrill beep of his own alarm, the one he has set in his phone on days he has to go to university once again, and he cannot help but be surprised that he has fallen asleep and has slept for so long, but he gets out of bed anyway, drowsy and hardly as well-rested as he would have expected himself to be, yet he proceeds through the day as he always does.

The days go by in a blur for him, as they tend to do, and nothing exciting happens that can quite possibly add a dash of color to his otherwise dreary week, and as he has already suspected, He does not even take notice of him any longer, all His attention directed to _her_. By the third day of the week, he almost fears that nothing will change at all, that no one will speak to him or take notice of him, but it is on that day that he goes to shop for both groceries and supplies for school, and also a new notebook because he has come to the final page, finally.

He has just come out from the shop when he takes notice of a small stand outside the shop, ringing a bell behind a small barrel and shouting for people leaving the shop to try with their receipts to win a pair of movie tickets for the marathon that is coming this weekend. When he hears those words, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his receipt and he wonders to himself if he dares to dream, just this once. It takes him a few long seconds of merely standing there, before he tells himself to go for it, because he really has nothing to lose with this small, childish game.

And so, when it is finally his turn, he spins the barrel around and round and round by its handle, watching its swirling patterns almost absently, and almost misses as the small ball rolls out from the barrel, though when the attendants cheer and wave their bell, he will not deny he is surprised at the sudden noise, and he is unsure what has happened, until one of the attendants congratulates him and slaps a pair of tickets in his hand before sending him off before he has the chance to truly realize what has just happened. When he is walking home, he is finally able to understand what has just happened as he looks down to the tickets he is now holding in his hand. There are just two of them, but in any normal situation for him, it would have been one too many, and he wonders if, maybe, he can make someone else happy with them, but before the thought can really formulate properly, another thought comes to him, one that quickly squashes the first.

For a long time, he wonders to himself if he dares to do what he wishes to do at that moment, as he sits on his bed, looking down at the tickets and then to his phone that rests in his other hand, and finally, he begins to scroll through the small list of names and selects the only name written in full English text and then he dials and places the object to his ear, waiting. And, finally, an answer comes.

“ _Hello, Sakuraba-kun._ ”

“…Kiryuu-kun, hey…”

“ _I wasn_ _’_ _t expecting to hear from you at this time. Is everything alright?_ ”

“…Yeah, I’m alright… just… I was wondering… I got these tickets for a movie marathon this weekend… and… well… would… would you want to come with me?”

When he has finally said it, he has to resist the urge to breathe out in relief, for it is as close as he will ever get to asking Him out on a date, even if He will never see it as such and will only see it as a friendly day out between he and Him. To Him, it will never be any more than that, but to him, it will mean the world and so much more.

“ _A movie marathon? You mean the one everyone has been going on about?_ ”

“Yes…”

“ _Ooh. Interesting_ _…_ _I had actually been planning to go with Rhyme-chan, but I_ _’_ _m afraid she isn_ _’_ _t much of a movie-fan._ ”

That is something he never knew of _her_ until now, and he is secretly rejoicing at having one up over _her_ , even though it is a minor victory in comparison to the prize _she_ has taken from him long ago.

“So… d-do you want to go… with me?” he asks, adding the last part as an afterthought so as to not let there be any confusion on what it is he wants, though when he thinks about it, he realizes that it may just scare Him off.

“ _Hmm_ _…_ _soo tempting_ _…_ _hold on, let me see if I_ _’_ _ve no plans this weekend_ _…_ ”

“Kay…”

His heart is pounding so hard now that he fears it may just burst like a sud bubble, but he keeps his breathing steady and attempts to calm the pounding organ before it does just that and kills him before he is able to hear His answer.

“ _This Sunday is packed, unfortunately_ _…_ _but Saturday night should be just fine. Shall we say_ _…_ _8 o_ _’_ _clock by the theater?_ ”

When He says that, he cannot help the small, fragile smile that slips on his face, as he holds the phone in both hands and shuts his eyes in a small moment of bliss.

“Y-yeah… sure… that’s fine.”

“ _Hihi. Okay then, it_ _’_ _s a date,_ ” He chirps, unknowing of the effect this has on him in the slightest for the words make his cheeks flare hot and he is glad that He is not there to see him or he would have been much too embarrassed to ever look His way ever again. “ _I_ _’_ _ll see you on Saturday, then, Sakuraba-kun. Wait for me, okay?_ ”

“Uh-huh… s-see you there…”

He stays on the line until He has closed the connection for several long moments before he closes his phone again, and he cannot help himself as he cries out of happiness, repeating over and over the two phrases “He said _yes_ ” and “I have a date” as he rolls over his bed in his excitement, the happiest he has felt in what feels to him like forever. He feels like giggling and smiling until the expression sticks on his face, and he cannot stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage. He is so excited, in fact, that he has already completely forgotten the events of his previous weekend.

As he lays there, he wonders absently to himself if He has gotten over His silly little fear of ghost movies, but if He has not, he does not even mind, because He has always had the tendency to cling to the nearest person in range when, to Him, the movie became scary. And more often than not, that person was him, because the stories have never honestly scared him at all, and he fails to understand why everyone seems to think they are frightening. And, while it may be just a little bit mean, just a little, you know, he hopes He has not gotten over it so that he will have a reason to hold Him close and to soak in His presence.

He falls asleep that night, still smiling, and he dreams only of Him, unable to even think of anything else. He is not even aware of the passage of time as the morning comes, and he goes through his daily routine without even being fully aware of it, but when he stops to check, he realizes it is already Saturday.

And, while it certainly does not show on his face, he cannot help but be anxious as he chooses his outfit carefully, for he does not want to appear too casual, but he also does not want to appear too daring, for fear of scaring Him away from him forever. After much debating, he finally selects his white shorts with black belt and dark purple and black sleeveless shirt, which has a funnel-shaped collar that can easily hide his mouth from view, and it is a design he has always liked, and the shoes he picks match the shirt perfectly, and to finish his look, he wears a yellow sweatband on his left wrist and he places his headphones and music player around his neck, not with the intent of using them, but merely to add to his casual appearance. He looks at himself in the mirror and he absently wonders if this is what girls feel like just before their first real date as he adjusts his clothes properly.

It is almost seven in the evening when he heads out, and he knows he will be really early like this, but he is too nervous to sit around in his apartment, so he places the tickets in his pocket, makes sure to put his phone on silent as he places it in his other pocket, and then he is heading for the theater. He walks, for once, since this will help him get rid of his nerves, or so he hopes, and also to help him prepare for what he will say to Him when He arrives.

It is half past seven when he arrives there, and yet his nerves have not gotten any better, and he is still unsure of what he will say when He comes, but he still has a while, and so he walks inside to look at the movies they are showing tonight. There are a lot of them, he soon discovers, and a handful of them he has been wanting to see very desperately, but he has never been able to, because he has never had the time or the spare change to do so. So, to be able to see the movies he wishes to see so badly, he already feels a little more at ease, and he smiles just a little when he notices that there is also a ghost movie in there.

When he looks at his cellphone to check the time, he is a little surprised to find that it already fifteen minutes past eight, and, when he looks, he does not spot Him anywhere yet. But he does not worry too much, because He tends to be a little late at times, because He likes to be “fashionably late”, as He calls it, so he goes to one of the seats in the lobby and sits down to wait for Him. He is sure that He will come, and so he waits… and waits… and waits…

A lot of people walk in and out… but He is not among those people, and when he looks to his phone again, it is half past nine, much later than he expects it to be, but he remains where he is. But as he continues to sit there, he feels like he has been abandoned, and yet he remains ever trusting of Him, for He told him to wait for Him, and so he waits… and waits… and waits…

Seconds turn into minutes, and minutes turn into an hour, and when he looks to his phone again, there is only half an hour left to the day. In a mere thirty minutes, Saturday will have come to an end and Sunday will begin, and still He is nowhere to be seen. His heart begins to hurt then, as worry gnaws at his thoughts and his stomach churns and twists and turns until he fears he will be sick, but he keeps it down, and instead, he goes to his list of contacts and selects His name, then presses the connect button and places the purple item to his ear. Maybe something has happened… he tries to tell himself that, as he waits for the connection to be established, but it rings for so long, that he fears it will not connect, but then there is a click.

“ _Hello?_ ”

He flinches, for the voice he hears is not the one he has been expecting to hear, but it is still a voice he knows well enough.

“…Biito-san?” he asks slowly, unsure of what he is supposed to address _her_ as without letting it be known what he truly feels for _her_.

“ _Oh! Sakuraba-kun! Hi, it_ _’_ _s been a while! How_ _’_ _ve you been?_ ”

He clenches his fist tightly, because he has to stop himself from saying anything he should not be saying, and he breathes carefully before he dares to speak again. “I… I’m doing okay, I suppose… hey, um… is… is Kiryuu-kun there?”

“ _Kiryuu-kun? Ah, no, he_ _’_ _s left for home a little while ago, but he_ _’_ _s left his phone here it seems. Sorry._ ”

A little while ago, _she_ says, and He appears to have gone straight home, as well, if what _she_ says is correct, and this news sends a jolt of pain through him, and he clenches his fist so tightly that his knuckles go white. He does not want to ask, but he has to know, even if it will only end up destroying him from the inside-out.

“Oh… around what time was that?”

“ _About fifteen minutes ago._ ”

“…oh… well… thanks anyway, Biito-san…”

“ _It_ _’_ _s okay. I_ _’_ _m sorry I couldn_ _’_ _t be more helpful, though, Sakuraba-kun. Oyasumi._ ”

“Oyasumi…”

Slowly, he lowers the phone and he feels… numb.

Fifteen minutes ago He has left from _her_ house… which means He has left at… fifteen past eleven, roughly… which means… He was at _her_ house all along…

He does not know anymore what to think, but slowly, bit by bit, it all begins to sink in and he breathes a little heavier and almost chokes on a sound that he believes is a sob, but boys do not cry, he knows, but… he is not a boy any longer, even though there are times when he feels like one. He has been old enough to be called a man for a long time, now, but he has never felt like one, why, he does not know…

But… it does not matter…

Nothing matters anymore…

After all, his own fears have just been confirmed, the fear he has been harboring for a long time already yet has never wished to acknowledge, and the confirmation of that fear is what drives those burning hot tears to run down his cheeks in a never-ending stream…

He has been forgotten once again… forgotten and abandoned… alone…

His breath comes out as gasps now and he has his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to stop his tears, but they do not allow him to stop them and they continue on and on as his heart feels like it is being twisted out of his chest, the pain numbing his senses until he can only shake and sob quietly from the intense agony rushing through him. It hurts so badly, hurts _so_ much that he almost wishes for it all to end, for the earth to just open up and to swallow him whole.

He had been looking forward to this _so_ much… had wished so deeply to be with Him, alone, for just one day and not have to worry about anything… and it has only given him a pain greater than any he has ever been forced to endure…

He trusted Him… and his trust has been broken… shattered beyond repair… leaving behind only dust…

Mindlessly, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the two tickets he has kept close with him for only a few scant days, all with the hope of seeing Him, being able to be close to Him, hearing His giggling laughter when the movie shows a segment He finds hilarious, calming Him when there was a particular frightening scare in the movie. All of that and so much more he has dreamed of doing, has been looking forward to those small moments so much… but now he never will…

His hands are already on both sides of the tickets and he is only a breath away from ripping them clean in half, useless as they are to him now, they have lost their once priceless meaning to him, but he does not, and he does not know why he does not and just end it, for these tickets have only caused him pain, so what reason does he have to keep them, really? And yet he does not rip them, as his gaze moves to his phone, still in his hand and flipped open, displaying his list of contacts, and just visible at the top, is a name that has only been listed there for a few days and has never been called before that time.

For several long, breathless minutes, he looks to the screen and he begins to think back, begins to recall the words spoken to him only a week ago, and he wonders if he dares to act on the thought that now runs through his head as he holds the phone up properly, scrolling up when the screen threatens to go dark. His finger hovers over the connect button, as he considers carefully if the thought going through his head is a wise one or if he has completely lost it.

But his painfully throbbing heart pounding against his ribcage is hurting so much, and he just needs to know that someone cares, that someone wants to be around him and spend time with him, or maybe only someone who will listen to him so that, maybe, he can feel better after letting all this pain out. And thus, his thumb pushes down on the button, and he brings the phone up to rest against his ear once again.

It takes forever to connect, even longer than when he tried to call Him, but finally there comes a click and he hears a groan that is accompanied by a sleepy “ _Hello?_ ” spoken by a voice he has only heard once in his life, but one he believes he will not soon forget.

He speaks their name slowly, but it sounds choked and he almost does not want to speak again as he feels his sobs rising to the surface again.

“ _Sakura-kun_ _…_ _?_ ” they say, but they sound like they are still half asleep and they almost seem a little bit annoyed, just a little, but he is sure anyone will be if one is awoken at midnight. “ _Ngh_ _…_ _do you know what time it_ _—_ _Sakura-kun? Are you_ _…_ _are you crying? What_ _’_ _s wrong?_ ”

“I… I… y… do you… _hic_ … do you want… c-could you… I mean… I… I…” he tries to speak, but he cannot say it as the entire situation hits home and he sobs, unable to hold the tears in check any longer. “I… I… I c-can’t take this anymore!! Please I-I… I don’t… I…”

“ _Ssshh, Sakura-kun_ _…_ _ssshh_ _…_ _calm down, sssh_ _…_ _come on, dear, deep breath, go on_ _…_ _breathe in_ _…_ _out_ _…_ _in_ _…_ _out_ _…_ _good_ _…_ _just like that, good_ _…_ ” they murmur soothingly, and he manages to calm his breathing just enough to be able to talk again. “ _All right_ _…_ _listen, do you want me to come to you?_ ”

“Ye-yes… yes please… I… I don’t… don’t wanna be alone an-anymore…”

“ _Okay_ _…_ _are you home?_ ”

“N… no… I’m… I’m at the… the theater…”

“ _Which one, dear?_ ”

It takes him a few moments to recall the name, but when he recalls it, he gives the name, choking a few times on his breath.

“ _All right, dear_ _…_ _I will be there in 15 minutes. Wait for me, okay?_ ”

“Y-yeah…”

“ _Just stay there and I shall be at your side soon, I promise you._ ”

He is not sure if he believes those words after having his promise broken once today, yet he agrees to wait for them despite himself, and he remains where he is, but this time he watches the clock on his phone, and he counts every minute that passes by, both afraid and hopeful, his eyes still leaking almost continuously as he watches his screen, unblinking. Ten minutes pass, and his throat feels constricted as he waits breathlessly for them to appear, but he does not truly expect them to come to him merely because he requested them to come, even though he wishes so very badly for them to come.

Eleven minutes…

Twelve minutes…

“Sakura-kun!”

His head snaps up so fast that he almost fears that his neck will break, as he looks up at the shout to watch them approach him, out of breath and more than a little frazzled, their hair tied back in a ponytail, but it appears windswept, as though they have been running as fast as they possibly could have run. They do not stop running until they are right in front of him and immediately grab his hands in their own and drop down to a crouch before him as he chokes out their name amidst his tears.

“Ssshh, Sakura-kun… tis all right now… I’m here…” they say soothingly, reaching up one hand to wipe away the tears. “Shush now ssshh… tis okay now… ssshh…”

He can barely utter a word, he is simply that surprised to see them there, and within the time they promised him over the phone, something he has only dared to hope of yet has been fearing to have his hopes shattered in the same way his heart has only just been shattered only a few minutes ago. He can only stare at them quietly for a few long moments as they wipe away his tears, before he is able to work his voice once more.

“…y… you came…”

“Yes, of course…” they say, reaching up with their other hand and placing it on his face as well. “Did I not say so? I gave you my word I would be here for you, and here I am.”

He can only blink, and he knows he must look stupid, with tears running down his cheeks and he is sure his eyes are red and puffy, because it surely feels like they are, but he cannot look away.

“…you… you re… you really came…”

“Sssh… shush, Sakura-kun… tis okay now… sssh I’m here for you… I’m here now, don’t worry…” they murmur over and over again, wiping his tears away before they rise up slightly to use tender kisses instead and threads their fingers lightly in his hair.

Is this true, he wonders slowly, and he reaches up with his hands and takes hold of their hands, and he whimpers almost when he discovers that his hands do not pass through theirs and that they feel warm, sweaty, but oh so tender, and he whispers, over and over and over: “…you came… you came…”

They look to him so sadly, then, but they only whisper to him so softly, telling him that everything is going to be okay as they sit down beside him and gently pull him close, their arms placed along his back gently with only comfort as their intention, one hand resting in his hair. He is so afraid, so deathly scared of them leaving him, so frightened of being alone again, and he reaches out slowly, hesitantly, and he holds them tight, praying quietly to not let them disappear from his side as well and for them to stay as the dam of his emotions shatters and he sobs and bawls, unable to keep those feelings inside any longer. And they stay by his side and hold him close, never letting him out of their sight and rocking him like a mother would a child, their voice so soft and tender and caring as he cries endlessly.

“…Sakura-kun, tell me, dear…” they whisper softly when his sobs have finally lessened and he feels capable of speaking properly again, running a hand through his hair, “what happened? Who did this to you, dear?”

He sniffles, and he wants to talk, but his nose is not letting him this time and he sniffles in an attempt to clear his nose, until they pull out a handkerchief and hold it to his nose gently, telling him softly to blow, and so he does and he feels better almost right away. Again, he sniffles, but he can finally speak again, though he does hiccup a few times, and any other time, he supposes that would have been funny.

“I… I got… got these t-tickets… an-and I… _hic_ … I asked a… a fr-friend to… to go wi-with me… _hic_ … h-he… he said to… to wait for him… _hic_ … a-at e-eight… b… but h-he…”

“…He never came for you, did he?” they ask slowly, and he shakes his head no, because it is true, and it is pointless to deny that fact.

“I… I waited… a-and waited… _hic_ … be… because he asked m-me to… but h-he… I-I just… wh-when I called him… j-just to see if… h-he was okay… _hic_ … he… he left… left his phone with… _hic_ … with h-his… his g… hi-his…”

“Dear god…” they murmur, holding him close, still. “That is… that… _sigh_ … I do not even have words to justify what he has done.” They place a soft kiss upon his temple, and murmur: “I am so sorry, Sakura-kun…”

He shakes his head, sniffling a few times as he blows his nose again, unable to speak with all his pent up emotions of so many years that he has fought to repress so desperately for so long. “It… it’s not your… _sniff_ … your fault… it… it’s not…”

“Ssshh… sssh now…” they murmur, running a hand through his hair, gently tugging him to rest with his head on their shoulder, and they lightly take hold of his hand. “…I know it is not truly my place to ask… but I need to know… the one you were waiting for… was… is he the one who…?”

He tenses slightly when they speak those words and while they do not finish what they wish to ask, they do not have to for him to understand, for that is why he tenses to start with. They sigh and pull him slightly closer, as though this will pull him inside of them, because they feel they can protect him there, maybe, but they do not say anything more.

For a time, he remains there, in their arms, soundlessly crying and sniffling, holding onto them in hopes that this can somehow ease his pain, even though he already knows it is a lost cause, for he cannot fathom of a way to make this any less painful than it is. And they stay by his side regardless, holding him close and letting cry onto their shoulder without uttering a word of complaint.

“…Sakura-kun,” they say softly then, and he tenses briefly, but he soon relaxes as they continue speaking, “Do you want me to take you home? Or do you want to stay and use those tickets you have?”

Go… or stay… his first thought is to go, but he does still have the tickets, because he has not ripped them into pieces like he has thought of doing a few times already now, and if he does not use them, it will only be a waste, right? There are still some movies he wants to see so badly, and while he can go alone, he does not want to be alone anymore, because he has been alone for too long already…

“…I… I don’t… want to go, yet…” he finally whispers, and they nod softly, squeezing his hand to let him know they are not upset about his decision, but it also feels like they are trying to reassure him that he does not have to be alone anymore. They help him to stand and lead him further into the theater, never letting him go and letting him know he is not alone anymore, and he really appreciates it, so much that he cannot put it into words.

They walk him along the path, holding his hand gently and refusing to let him go and he cannot help himself as he leans up against their side, his cheek on their shoulder, wanting to be as close to them as he can just to ensure he will not be left on his own again, and they give not a peep and instead they only lightly squeeze his hand as they approach the counter. They order drinks and some snacks, and a lot of chocolate, why, he does not know, but he does not question it and accepts a few pieces of the sweet substance from the bag, munching quickly and swallowing before he has completely chewed them up which results in him almost choking. Not that it matters; his throat hurts enough from all his crying earlier anyway, so what is a little more pain to his throat?

He follows after them, holding their hand and walking into the first movie room where the movie has not started yet, and he moves along down the aisle to some seats right in the middle, both of the room and of the row, from which one has the best view in the entire room, he believes, and he and they sit down just as the lights begin to dim.

Whatever the movie is about, he does not even know, nor does he much care, and even as people around him laugh at the antics of the movie’s heroes, he barely registers what is happening throughout the movie. All he is truly aware of is the bag of chocolate in his lap, his drink in its stand on the chair in front of him, and their hand, still lightly clasping his own and rubbing the thumb along his skin. He only realizes after the movie has ended that it is a movie he has been wanting to see so badly that he had set some money aside to go later, but at this time, the realization comes too late and he finds that he no longer cares. He has dreamed of going to this movie with Him, too, and he had been certain that that dream could have come true today… and yet that dream has been shattered along with so many others…

“Sakura-kun…” they murmur softly as the movie ends. “I think tis better I bring you home now…”

“D… dun wanna…” he complains softly, squeezing their hand back. “I dun wanna go back yet… please…”

“Sakura-kun…”

“ _Please_ …”

“…Okay, dear… we’ll stay a bit longer.”

“…thank you…”

“Anytime, dear…”

He does not even object to the kiss on his temple as he is pulled up to his feet, he merely follows them through the theater soundlessly. He just wants to forget, wants to erase this pain that is ripping him apart from inside, and wants to move on with his life. But the pain just will not let him, and he cries silently, unable to ease the pain that is hurting him both physically and mentally.

He thinks they walk into three or four more movies, neither of which he remembers even slightly when he comes out, when he starts to rub at his eyes, not just because of his tears, but also because he is tired. This time, when they offer to take him home, he does not object and allows them to lead him outside. He does not fully remember how he responded upon seeing their ride, but he recalls how he was given a helmet to protect him, and a warm, thick jacket they keep in it, before they put their own helmet on and climb on, telling him quietly to climb on and hold tight to them, and he does not object and does as he is told.

The wind that rushes by him is cold and he winces and clings tightly to their waist, resting his head on their back and they do not say anything of it and keep their focus on the road. That is fine, though, because he cannot bear to think of anything right now, as he just wants to forget all that has happened tonight.

The trip home is much shorter than he remembers it to be, and when they stop, he is actually hesitant to let go, and so he does not, and they say not a word about it and only wait for him to say something, to let them go, to hold them tighter… he does not know what… but… it does not matter.

How long he sits there, he does not know, but after a long moment, so long, he whispers only a single word, but he shifts that single word into a question that is punctuated by how his fingers grip tightly to their clothes…

“…stay?”

“…Only if you wish for me to, Sakura-kun…”

“…yes…”

“…then I shall do as you wish.”

They park in one of the spaces for visitors, lock it and secure it and set the alarm, and then join him back at the entrance, taking his hand and walking after him as he steps into the building, to the elevator and then up to the proper floor. They do not speak the entire way, same as the way over, but he supposes that it is fine for now, because, really, he does not want to speak right then, for all he truly wants is to fall asleep and pray that this horrible nightmare will be over soon so that his heart can heal from the pain and the terrible wounds inflicted upon it.

Finally, he and they reach his apartment, and he unlocks and opens the door, stepping inside and they walk after him, still refusing to speak, but they do shut the door behind them before they join him where he lays to sit upon the bed, a tender hand resting upon his head to let him know he is not alone and he cannot begin to explain how grateful he is for their presence, for them not leaving him and for coming when he asked them to even though it was well past a normal person’s bed time. He wishes that he can tell them the strength of his gratitude, but there are no words that can truly express what he feels, and so he remains silent, his eyes staring ahead, unseeing, as their hand plays in his hair, rubs the pads along his scalp and lets him know that they are not leaving unless he wants them to. They do not ask and he does not offer, but he does not reject them either when they move over and lay down behind him, keeping their distance, but still close enough that their heat flows into him, and he wonders vaguely if things will be the same as last week, but he does not speak of it, too frightened of the answer as he is.

As they lay there in silence, still stroking his hair so tenderly, he thinks back… back to their words of last week, and he ponders… about the decision he was requested to make and he hesitates… for despite the pain it has given him over the years, he does not really want to give up the love that has been grasped so securely by his heart… and yet…

Enough was enough…

His heart cries to him, and, silently, he listens to its cries begging him to stop the pain… and he slowly shuts his eyes and speaks their name, a mere whisper in the night…

“…yes?”

“…I want to try…”

“Hm?”

“…’us’…”

They do not respond right away, and he almost fears that the time to speak those words has already passed, but then there is a soft touch on his arm, not a request to turn, but merely a reassuring gesture.

“…are you sure…?”

No, he wants to say, because a small part of his heart still clings to his love for Him, but he cannot heed it now, does not want to heed it, afraid of only causing himself more grief. And so he says, softly: “…yes…”

They do not speak for a long time, but after what feels like minutes, while it has only been half a minute, they scoot over and wrap their arms around him, lightly pulling him into their body. He shuts his eyes, unsure of how this will turn out, but they merely reach up to tangle a hand into his hair, tenderly, and they say nothing more for a long time, and merely hold him, not speaking and unmoving with the exception of their fingers running through his hair. He knows what is likely to come, and so he merely lays there and waits for it to happen, because he does not have the strength to say no at this point in time after all that has happened.

“…I shall not,” they say suddenly, and he blinks his eyes open curiously, because he has not said anything, he knows, and he looks back over his own shoulder. “A healthy relationship is not constructed upon what happens within the bedchambers, Sakura-kun,” they explain without being asked. “And after tonight especially, I cannot bring myself to request such a thing from you.”

He cannot say anything in response, for with only so little said, they were able to quench his fears and put his mind at ease, and he has not needed to speak even a single word to receive the consolation, and so he rests his head back down and he whispers: “…thank you…”

“Anytime, Sakura-kun… anytime…”

He falls asleep slowly, and they remain by his side throughout the night, he knows this because he wakes up in cold sweat and hot tears a few times, and they are right there every time, shushing him softly and gently kissing his tears away, before they hug him close and murmur soothing words into his ear, lightly pulling him back into the realm of sleep and dreams. Sometime during the night, he turns onto his other side and he coils into them, clinging to them and asking, begging, for them to not leave and stay by his side, and they say they will stay every time, again and again, and he is somehow able to sleep a good number of hours despite his constant stream of nightmares, and when he wakes, finally, they are right there, already awake and stroking a hand through his hair.

“Good morning,” they whisper to him softly.

“…g’morning…” is all he is able to get out, for his throat feels hoarse and dry, and he really wants to drink something, anything.

“Do you want something? I fear my cooking is not too good, but I can always make you some sandwiches, or…”

“…just… just water… please…”

They look at him sadly, but they say nothing of what they think and only nod, slowly getting up after they place a tender kiss on his temple, murmuring that he will be right back and that he should just relax for the moment, and he nods in reply as they climb off the bed. He shuts his eyes for a moment longer, as though his body desires to sleep a few more hours, but he soon opens them again and he resists the urge to curl into a ball on his bed, for that will not do him any good after all. His head is too much of a mess now for him to be able to rest peacefully, especially alone as he currently is. And when the bed creaks and dips low, he looks up to them as they hold out a glass of water and he nods as he pushes up, taking the glass and slowly sipping from the cold water.

His throat is parched, so the water tastes almost divine to him, but he says nothing of it as he sits there, holding the glass in his hands and staring out from under his eyelashes to the wall before him. He does not feel hungry, only thirsty, though maybe that will change soon, or so he hopes, because he does not wish to waste himself away, despite how desirable the solution appears to him sometimes.

They do not speak, and remain silent as he sips his drink as though he is waiting for something, but he is not in the mood now to speak, and so he sits and merely drinks, letting the cool liquid run down his throat. He wants to forget last night, but his mind will not let him and keeps rewinding to what has happened last night, and every time, his heart aches in pain and his body tenses and his eyes begin to fill with tears.

“Sakura-kun…”

He blinks and looks over when they place a hand on his wrist tenderly, and they look… what is that look? Worried? He hopes so… because he really needs to know that someone out there gives something about whether he is alright or not, someone who will stay by his side and actually see him, not stare through him like his… friends have been doing for so long already.

“…Look, I’ll not request you not think on last night, for I know how the human mind works; the more you try to forget, the more you remember,” they admit, and they run their thumb along the inside of his wrist. “Therefore, I shall ask this instead; I have rehearsals today, and I would be honored if you would come with me today to get your mind off of last night. Will you come with me?”

Rehearsals? Rehearsals for what?

That is what he wants to ask, but he still has difficulty when it comes to forming words properly, and perhaps, really, it does not matter, because even if he had been asked to go visit a brothel, then he had a feeling he would still agree, as long as it was guaranteed to get his mind off of what happened to him. Anything was fine, anything at all, and so he merely nods his head in silent consent, and they allow a small smile that shows both gratitude and what he believes to be concern.

He does not feel like eating just yet, so he changes into something easy to wear and follows them out the door, leaving his phone inside because he is not expecting anyone to call him, for who will call to someone who has been abandoned? They lead him down the stairs and back outside, where they parked their motorbike and then hand him a helmet as they begin unlocking it quietly. They do not speak, and he does not mind as he stands there and watches as they remove all the locks and place the items away where they belong, before they place their own helmet on their head.

They get on first, and he climbs on shortly after, once more wrapping his arms around their waist and holding on tight as they drive away. He does not keep track of where they are going, because he really does not much care, as nothing really matters to him anymore. He just wants to forget…

After a long time, they stop the motorbike at what he believes is their destination and shut off the engine and he climbs off slowly, still a little weary, but they say nothing about it, for which he is grateful, as they climb off and park, before they remove their helmet, putting it and his away for safekeeping, after which they lightly take his hand and lead him away, but he does not care. They can drag him off the side of a cliff if they so wish and he will not bat an eye at the very concept.

They walk inside of a building, but he does not care enough to find out what kind of building it really is, nor does he care about the people who seem to be staring at him, or at them, he does not know which, nor does he care. They do not seem to care much, either, as they just walk without really acknowledging anyone, never releasing his hand from theirs.

It reminds him of his childhood, when he and Him would go to school together, hand in hand because he had always been the shorter of the two, and thus He would say that He was afraid to lose sight of him and never see him again. It was not until middle school that He stopped holding his hand as he and Him walked to school, and, come high school, He stopped picking him up from home altogether. The first time that He did not come, he actually came to school two hours too late, because he had waited for Him to come for him. It just happened suddenly, without warning, and he could not explain it, nor was he brave enough to question Him about it, and so he had remained silent, as much as he had wanted to say something about it at the time.

He simply had not dared, just as he did not dare to speak to his… ‘friends’… about how they had abandoned him…

“In here,” they say suddenly, shaking him from his memories, for which he is glad, because he does not wish to think about his past any longer, for he fears he will start to cry yet again, and that is not something he wishes for when he is surrounded by so many people he does not know, and he follows them into a room, which they close behind him quietly. Once they are inside, they turn to him, and they appear to be almost worried, though he cannot say for certain if what he sees is correct, as he still finds it hard to say whether that worry is really there or if he is making it up, and they ask him: “Are you all right, Sakura-kun?”

He does not know what to say to this question, because he certainly does not feel fine, but he does not wish to say so, a small part of him claiming that he cannot show weakness to anyone, despite how he so wishes he could, and so he remains silent instead. They seem to understand his silence, however, and they kiss him on his lips softly and briefly, a soft murmur of comfort passing over their lips as they caress his cheek with one finger and squeeze his hand briefly.

“…where are we…?” asks he after a moment more of simply standing there as he looks around the room finally that appears to him as some sort of dressing room.

They smile, almost cheekily, and then say softly: “The kabuki theater. This is my dressing room.”

“…kabuki?”

He has heard of that before, and he knows it is an ancient type of play, but he has never seen it before, because shows were always much too expensive for him to even consider going to, even if he were to save up for several years. He also knows that in traditional kabuki, there are no female actors, because that was something that women were forbidden to do so long ago, and that is why it became almost natural for the men of kabuki to take on the roles of the missing women that were meant to be there during plays, though if he is honest, he is not certain how it is possible for men to pass as women, and he has long believed it to be impossible. But he has to admit, if he looks at them closely, and takes into account their lithe form and long hair, perhaps it _is_ possible to a certain degree, and, really, who is to know when most people in the audience will be removed so far away that they cannot make out a person’s face?

“Yes, dear? Is something wrong?” they ask him, but he has a feeling, which is enhanced by their small smirk, that they already know what he is thinking.

“…have you… played females as well…?”

“I assume you mean ‘female roles’, correct?” they chuckle out, and he will never admit that, in hindsight, his earlier question sounded really really wrong, even to himself, so he only nods in response, blaming the heat on his cheeks to the room’s temperature. “Yes, I have actually played a few of them. In kabuki, I suppose it is a must for all of us. Though, thankfully, I was not born in an earlier time period, or it would have been the only type of role I could perform.”

Neku nods, as he has also heard that, long before, to ensure men could speak as women on stage, they were castrated, often at young age, thus allowing their voices to become high enough to sound female. It was a thought that had left Neku with the chills the first few times he had heard of such practices.

“…you… came to practice…?” he asks after a while, to take his mind off of that subject, and they smile to him.

“Yes, I did. Perhaps it will not be so interesting to you, but it may just get your mind off of things for now. At least for a moment.”

“…thank you…”

Their smile seems to brighten up, and they kiss him again, just as softly as before, before they say to him that they should be getting ready, and they begin to gather clothes that he is sure have gone out of style several centuries ago, and yet they put the clothes on with such ease and grace that they make it seem like they have either never worn anything else or have been wearing such clothes since childhood, and he thinks that either option is possible, really.

Of course, people question his presence when he joins them at the rehearsal, but no one dares question them as they give a look that he cannot see completely, but it is not a nice look, he is sure, and he hopes to never have that aimed at him. He is eventually told to sit and relax and to watch carefully, and he only nods and follows them with his gaze as they move to get ready. As he sits there, he sighs briefly, just to get some air from his lungs that he has to spare, when he spies a notepad, unused except for a single page that has already been torn off, as well as a pen and, on instinct alone, he picks both items up and sits back, the pad on his lap and the pen in hand. After he checks to make sure the pen still has ink, he finally turns back to the rehearsal, just as they get on the makeshift stage to practice their lines.

He can only watch as they speak in such refined tones, using almost ancient Japanese words that he is certain are never used again in modern day Japan, and despite the monotony that would have made any other student his age yawn in sheer boredom he finds himself enthralled and hanging onto every word spoken, and not just their words, but also those of their co-workers, or is that co-actors? Either way, he cannot look away, and he almost does not notice how, as though possessed, his hand begins to trace lines upon the notepad, gradually taking shape and becoming more and more distinct.

They have to redo one particular scene several times over, and not just because they make a mistake, but also because their co-actors mess up the lines and say something entirely out of context by saying one “ki” instead of “ji”, and he can tell it is tiring them out, but they do not show it in the slightest, which amazes him beyond words, because he knows he will never be able to stand such long sessions, regardless of how little he wishes to speak.

And so the time passes slowly, and while they are allowed to have a break every so often, it tends to be just enough to take a glass of water, and maybe a cracker or two to briefly stave off the hunger, but never any longer, and it is not until noon that they are finally told they can take a longer, and in his opinion, well-deserved, break. They breathe out heavily as they drop themselves on the seat next to him, nursing what smells like a cup of coffee, and a strong blend, no less, which they gulp down in two large gulps. Only when they have finished the entire thing do they turn to him, finally.

“Are you holding up well?” they ask him gently, as they rest a hand upon his knee, and he nods once in response, his hand still moving the pen across the pad even though it is beginning to slow. They seem to notice this, and they tilt their head slightly to try and see the pad, as they ask: “What were you writing?”

He has not expected the question, and it startles him because he himself is not entirely certain what it is he has worked on, despite it having been his own hand that did the work, and so he brings it up to his chest to hide it. “I… I wasn’t… writing anything…”

“Oh? Then what were you doing?”

“N-nothing… nothing, really…”

A lie, of course, and he is certain that they know, but he is just too embarrassed to show something to them that even he has not had a good enough chance to see what it is he has been unknowingly drawing so intently. Despite his best intentions, he has a feeling that his thoughts are showing up on his face crystal clear, because they squeeze the hand that rests on his knee, and say: “Sakura-kun, I am not going to bite your head off. Will you please show me?”

How is he supposed to say no to that when they ask him to see his work in such a tone? He really does not want to show, but the look they are giving him, not to mention their soft request to see it, cause his resolve to gradually crumble. Why can he not say ‘no’?

Slowly, he lowers the pad and slides it to them, but he does not dare look at it himself, for fear that whatever he has drawn will only embarrass him even further. They offer him a reassuring smile as they take the pad from him, before they turn their gaze to his drawing and he feels his face grow red. Their smile seems to fade as they look at the drawing, and he cannot help but feel anxious and fearful for whatever it is that has them sitting so still, staring at the pad in silence.

It hurts him almost physically to wait for the verdict on his work, and when they turn to him again, he cannot help himself and he tenses, so sharply that he is well aware it is visible. They seem to pick up on his anxiety, because they smile at him once more and say: “Sakura-kun… this is… it is…” They struggle for words, and he is not certain what to expect, but he doubts it is a good kind of expression that is now playing on his face.

When they fail to speak for almost an entire minute, their mouth opening and closing like a fish gulping for air, he dares to voice what he can only imagine has to be going through their mind. “…horrible?”

“What…? …! No no no!” they say immediately, their expression appearing to be one of shock, though he cannot understand why. “I apologize. I merely…” they start, and then pause to sigh briefly and run a hand through their hair. “I did not expect you to be a fan of CAT… nor did I think you would be able to replicate his style so well.”

Ah, so he has drawn something in his idol’s style again, he realizes, and he finds himself a little startled at this, because he has not done so in a long time, but he looks away to not have to look at them anymore, because he is not sure where this conversation will go. However, they reach over and lightly take his chin in their fingers, and turn his face again so that he and they are looking eye to eye, and he finds this to be more than a little uncomfortable.

“Sakura-kun…” they say then, breaking through to his thoughts. “This picture you made… it’s beautiful.”

“…wha…?”

He must have misheard them, he must have, because he is very certain that no one has ever called his sketches in his idol’s style ‘beautiful’, for either fans of CAT would say he is copying the art, and all others would say it was merely ‘acceptable’. To have someone, anyone at all, call his own variation of his idol’s work ‘beautiful’ was both a first to him and, with that, very surprising.

“…you… you like it…?” he dares to ask slowly, unable to look away from them.

“Like it? No…” But before he can start to fret, they smile and move forward to kiss him lightly on his lips, and then murmur: “I _love_ it, Sakura-kun… I honestly do.”

He can barely utter a sound as they speak those soft words, in fact he feels like he can barely breathe, as he feels his heart skip a beat, as its beat pounds against his chest as though it wishes to fly away. No one has ever told him those words before, has told him that his work is beautiful and that they love it… and it makes those words so much more precious to him.

“…really…?

“Really really,” they whisper, and then they move in to kiss him again, but this time he sees it coming and, rather than move away, he moves to meet them, shutting his eyes if only to prevent himself from openly weeping from the joy that seems to be overflowing in his heart now, even though it still aches from what it had been forced to endure the night before, yet he pushes it aside to focus on now, moving back against their mouth slowly, unsure, but they are patient and gentle, guiding him the whole way. He does not know for how long he and they stay as they are, but when the kiss has finally ended, they scoot closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders and hold him close, and he sighs softly, keeping his eyes shut and letting his head rest on their shoulder. With the little amount of sleep he has had last night, he will not be surprised if he fell asleep right then and there, and even if he did, he would not have cared; he just wished to forget as their soft fingers run through his hair, lulling him to sleep slowly.

He does not know if he has really fallen asleep, or if his memory is merely fuzzy along the edges because of the overload of feelings that are almost foreign to him, but when he can focus again he is laying on his side, with his head resting snugly on their thigh, which is remarkably soft despite the muscle he knows must rest underneath and he cannot help but let his mind wander as they pet his hair soothingly while they read through what he believes is a script of some kind. He feels… content, almost, like he is a kitten getting attention from its owner, and he wonders if what they have said to him before is true; if it is possible to love another person when one knows without a shadow of doubt that their true love would never return the love they held for them.

He moves his fingers along their knee, and they chuckle a little as the muscle under his cheek twitches lightly, and he makes a note of that for later, because he believes it may prove itself to be useful later on. They move their hand and lightly scratch just above and behind his ear in a way he believes is meant to be affectionate, but he cannot be fully sure of that, having rarely experienced anything similar to that, but he does not mind the small gesture and relaxes into the motion as he lets his eyes slip closed yet again.

“Heheh… comfy, are we not?”

“…mmhmm…”

Lazy as well, to be brutally honest, but he is feeling much too lazy to care enough to voice his own thoughts, and so he just remains where he lays, one hand placed upon their knee, but then he scrunches up his face when he realizes he is almost crushing his own ear, and so he briefly shifts to fix that. When he does just so, though, he hears them suck in a sharp gasp and feels them tense under his hand, and it makes him pause briefly, a little unsure, but as his awareness begins to once more creep up on him, he begins to have an idea of what is wrong and he begins to debate on what he must do, as he feels their fingers rest against his scalp, a subtle tremble against his skin.

He is not certain what it is that prompts him to do what he does next, maybe it is a small part of his brain that has been demanding something akin to payback for what happened the week before, maybe it is just his curiosity, or maybe something else entirely, but he finds himself opening his eyes a crack and dragging the pads of his fingers along their knee and steadily higher, and this time their breath is sucked in with a soft hiss to try and keep quiet, but he hears anyway, and so he lightly turns his head and places an open-mouthed kiss along their clothed thigh, a move that earns him a barely concealed moan.

“S-Sakura-kun… h-hold on just a–” they start to say, only to choke on what he believes is in fact a whimper, as he shifts his attention elsewhere, licking and suckling through the material as he can feel it clinging to them tighter and tighter.

He sits up then and he immediately throws his leg across their lap to straddle them while he takes the script and puts it away, tagging the page they were at with only one hand even as he latches onto their mouth like a man possessed, and he briefly wonders if perhaps he is, but only for a total of two seconds before he rests his hands on their shoulders and theirs come to rest on his waist, pulling him closer as he hears a moan that he soon realizes is his own.

After a breathless moment, they are able to push him back, just enough to break the kiss and allow for them both to regain their breath, and they whisper out amidst their labored breathing: “Sakura-kun… you… are you sure you…?”

He considers the question for a long time, and a small part of his mind is shouting that this is a bad idea, to which he has no intention of listening for once in his life, before he moves in and briefly kisses them again, and then he murmurs, almost as if to confirm the fact to himself: “We’re… dating now… right?”

“…well… yes…”

There is a ‘but’ coming, he can hear the word as it threatens to roll off their tongue, so he denies it its passage with his own, and when he finally breaks away, he whispers: “Then it’s fine…”

“Sakura…”

They look like they want to say more, but they keep their mouth shut, until he lets his hand slide down and they let out a slightly startled yelp that soon shifts into a deep moan as they throw their head back against the back of the sofa he and they had been laying and sitting on respectively and with their eyes shut tight and he feels the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly in an attempt to show his amusement, as he moves his hand slowly and presses down harder, or he loosens his hold and moves faster, or the exact opposite, whichever he really feel up to, since they certainly do not complain. He hisses in surprise when their hand rakes its long nails along his clothed chest and slips down, beginning to duplicate his movements gradually, and he is now trying very hard to not whine or cry or whimper or scream or all of the above.

It really is fine, he tells himself firmly, because this kind of behavior, surely it is very normal for couples to do, he is certain, especially for couples that are around his own age, so this should not be something to be getting himself all worked up over. He keeps these thoughts anchored in his mind as he slips his hand past the loose material of their hakama, and they groan as his fingers make contact with their bare flesh.

“Nnnrgh… foul play, dear…” they choke out breathlessly, trying to focus weary eyes on him but having quite some trouble with it. “You… you’ve twice as much… covering as I…”

He tilts his head a little to the side in question, before he begins to place soft open-mouthed kisses along their throat, drawing another groan from them, before he deems it needed to voice a response to their words. “How is that… my fault? You… you decided to… wear only one layer…”

They chuckle softly, before tipping their head forward and licking up along his throat so languidly that it almost makes him whimper, and he barely notices that they are undoing his pants until their hand is already slipping inside and he gives a sound he believes is closest to a mewl. “Treacherous little Reynard… here you had me thinking… I’d have to drag it out of you…”

He hears the chuckle that underlines their voice and he feels his lips curl up just a little as he nips on the lobe of their ear, before he murmurs back in response. “Then it seems… you don’t know me… as well as you thought you did…”

“Mmmnnn… you make a good point… I truly… know very little about you.. but in return… there’s only so much… you know of me, hm?”

“Y-yeah…”

How strange, he thinks to himself, for this is the kind of conversation he was sure he would be able to have with Him at any given point, when he and Him had still been on proper speaking terms with each other.

As quickly as the thought has formed in his mind, as quickly is it banished as he shuts his eyes tight, fighting back the tears that threaten to flow at the mere thought of Him, and he takes a deep gulp of breath as he does all he can to focus on the here and now, reprimanding himself of what he almost did. If they notice his thoughts, which he does not doubt because his hand had briefly tensed when he had banished his own thoughts and had made them hiss briefly, they do not speak of it at all and instead tilt his head around to kiss him, winding their free hand in his hair, and he is quick to return the gesture, winding his hand into the long locks and enjoying how soft they felt between his fingers, almost like feathers tickling his skin ever so lightly, so unlike his own naturally coarse spikes.

He breaks away briefly to catch his breath and he breathes out their name, as he feels his muscles bunch together almost painfully, and they gasp out his own name as their hand tightens only a fraction before he and they tip over the edge with cries that become lost down each other’s throats.

When he finally breaks away from them, gasping and choking for breath, he removes his hand and looks down at the limb as though it has just done something it should not have, and he shivers softly as the liquid slides across his flesh, the sensation both strange and oddly arousing. As he looks at them then, he almost whines when he sees that rather than staring at the liquid, they are busying themselves with licking up every drop from their own hand, and the look they give him makes him feel like his blood is on fire.

“Dear me…” they murmur, as they pull him in and ghost their lips across his own, and he shivers at the taste that is transferred from theirs to his, knowing fully well he is tasting himself, “quite the mess we’ve made… we truly _should_ clean up… don’t you agree?”

He cannot speak in response, despite how he so wishes to, because his voice has abandoned him and so he is only able to nod softly, and as they help him to his feet he stumbles a little when his legs tremble beneath his weight as though they are about to give away at any given moment, but they catch him before he can and hold him up as they guide him through their dressing room and into the adjoining washroom, of which its presence makes sense he supposes, given the type of work they do.

He does not recall undressing, though maybe that was merely because he is still busy attempting to wrap his mind about what he just did barely a few moments ago, but when he blinks again, they have him pinned against the cold, tiled wall, which is a pleasant counter to the heat of his own skin and the water that begins to coat them both, their mouth firmly covering his own and he realizes that he is moaning and whimpering then, his arms slung along their neck and keeping them as close to him as he possibly can. He is no longer thinking and he can barely form any coherent thoughts when they slip their hand along his back, fingers slick with sweat and water both as they slide down his back yet stop short as they whisper again if he is sure, and he merely nods two times, forcing his body to relax as their fingers move in slowly, playing, teasing, leaving him wanting more.

They kiss him again as they bring him down to his knees and onto their lap, and he groans as they use both their hands to lower him further and he breaks away with a gasp as they slip inside so smoothly that he barely feels it and he finds himself wondering briefly why that first time had hurt so much more, but the thought disappears in an instant as they move him slowly and force a long almost desperate moan from his mouth. He whines and begs for them to move faster and they obey almost immediately and he almost shouts out when fireworks explodes behind his eyelids, but he covers his mouth barely in time to subdue the sound, because he recalls at the last second that this place is not the most private of places, and they only chuckle softly in his ear and he finds it to be a bit unfair that he has to contain his voice and they have no problems containing theirs, but he can barely think as is and that thought is soon dissolved into air like the rest of his thoughts.

When they pull him down by his neck and lock his mouth with theirs while simultaneously grabbing hold of him, his scream is swallowed in their mouth as every muscle in his whole body bunches together and he feels their own cry more so than he hears it and he almost fears that the heat that follows it will burn him up from inside before he collapses onto them, gasping to get the air back into his lungs. They hold him gently, breathing heavily in his ears before they lift him up before they bring them both up to stand again as they run a hand through his hair before they kiss him again, but only briefly for they pull away again before he can respond to it.

“You really are a piece of work, are you not, dear?” they murmur softly, raking their nails gently along the side of his face, a small smile playing along their face, but he feels his own face twist into a small frown.

“…don’t call me–”

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” they say with a small sigh as they peck him on his lips again. “That one just slipped out. I apologize.”

“Just… don’t do it again… you sound like–…”

He stops his own sentence short and looks away from them, because he does not want to see the look on their face when they realize whom it is he had been about to mention.

“Like… him, by any chance?” they murmur softly and he tenses sharply and he believes that to be answer enough, but he still inclines his head in a nod anyway. “…I see. I apologize; I did not mean to make you recall that…”

“…no… it… it’s alright…” he says softly, as he gasps a little for breath to mask the sobs that threaten to spill from his throat. “…but it’s… it’s not just that…”

“Sakura-kun, you don’t have to–”

He looks up again and reaches out to the side of their head, and tugs a lock of their hair over their shoulder and winds it around his finger, albeit a bit absently and he watches as the locks have gained a slightly darker hue because of the water now weighing them down.

“…when I… when I saw you the first time… I… I thought you were him be… because your hair was… is the same… only longer…”

“Sakura-kun…”

He shuts his eyes as he brings the lock to his mouth, almost as though to kiss it, as he murmurs softly, as though he were speaking and confessing his own sin to himself.

“I was… confused… because I always thought… that he was the only one like that…” He opens his eyes again and looks up to them and they regard him with an expression he does not recognize. “I… almost said his name… but… your eyes were the wrong color and I knew that… that you were not him…” His voice cracks and his fingers tighten around the lock of hair he still holds so firmly. “I… I felt so stupid… I knew it couldn’t have been… because he’d never… he–”

They kiss him suddenly, possibly to make him shut up and he is so grateful for it, even if he has no opportunity to say it when they pull back.

“Enough, Sakura-kun… enough…” they whisper to him before they kiss him again. “You have to stop this. Stop tormenting yourself like this… you will only make yourself miserable if you do this.”

He bites his lip and he shuts his eyes tight while they kiss him all over his face and at the corners of his eyes to stop the tears from joining the spray of water, and as he whispers their name softly, they kiss him on his lips once more.

“Sakura-kun… perhaps, I am not the only one similar to another person,” they say then, and this makes him blink his eyes in confusion. “When I saw you… I almost thought you were a friend of mine.” They smile a bit as they place their forehead against his, whispering softly. “He actually works here, as a stand-in, and you are similar to him in so many ways… except your eyes; they are the wrong color.”

He is startled upon hearing not just their admission but also the fact that their situations were by far more similar than he could have ever imagined possible, as they run a hand through his hair.

“…His hair is longer, though… it reaches his waist, easy.”

“…his hair is shorter… chin-height…”

“Really? Heheh… perhaps we are more alike than we believed…”

They gently kiss him again and he leans in to them in response, and he wishes to himself then, wishes for his life to pick up from now on, for things to become better and for his heart to recover from the pain it had endured for so many years, and he wishes to be able to fall in love with them, so that maybe, just maybe, he can be happy again.

Time passes quickly and for once he is unhappy that it does because he wants to stay with them for longer, to spend time together but they tell him that they have enough time, because he and they are dating, after all, so it is no problem to see each other whenever, and so, in a moment of bravado, he asks them if they wish to come to his school during lunch, only to realize too late that his school may not accept that, but they say it will be okay and they will be there. They take him home as the day comes to the end, and they wish him goodnight with the promise of seeing him tomorrow at lunch, and he can only whisper a soft goodnight to them in turn before he goes in, for they wait until he is inside before they leave for their own home.

As he walks up the stairs to his floor, he cannot help but feel slightly better as his heart feels so much lighter than ever before, and, for the first time in ages, he feels he can safely say he is smiling, something he feels he has not done in years. When he reaches the safety of his room, he leans back against it and begins to think, wondering about what he will do the next day when they arrive, though he cannot help but be apprehensive, for many people at his school are opposed to relationships that involve two people who are the same gender and regardless of their beauty, the fact that they are male will not suddenly change, which leaves him to wonder what they intend to do.

“ _Caaalling, you hear the caaalling  
Caaalling_ _…_ ”

The sound is sudden and it startles him back into awareness, though it takes him almost a minute before he can place the sound and he picks up his phone, flipping it open just before he knows the phone will disconnect, and he does not even look to see who is calling when he brings it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“ _…_ _Sakuraba-kun?_ ”

“…! …Kiryuu-kun?”

He has not been expecting this, has not thought of the possibility of Him calling at all, and yet he knows without hesitation that it is Him calling, because there is no way he would mistake His voice for that of anyone else.

“ _Phew, thank god you picked up_ _…_ _I was almost afraid I_ _’_ _d have to go through this twice in as many days_ _…_ ”

“…what do you mean?” he asks, confused over what he is hearing as he sits down on his bed.

“ _Before we cover that, I have to say this; I am so sorry about last night. I was going to call, but with Rhyme-chan being hospitalized I_ _…_ _I forgot. I_ _’_ _m sorry._ ”

“…hospi… is… is she alright?”

“ _Yes, she will be okay_ _…_ _she and her brother both. Some drunk driver hit them when they were going home by car._ ”

“I see… that’s… that’s good…”

Was that the truth, he wonders to himself, or is this just some kind of excuse He thought of to try and make it seem more serious, because it does seem like something He would possibly consider.

“ _Yeah_ _…_ _and by the time I thought to call you, I realized I_ _’_ _d left my phone with Rhyme-chan. I actually went to the theater to see you but_ _…_ _I think I missed you._ ”

“…yeah, probably…”

“ _…_ _Sakuraba-kun_ _…_ _are you angry with me?_ ”

“…no.”

Angry, He asks, and he almost wants to laugh, but he cannot bring himself to. No, he does not feel anger, only pain when he has understood he would always be second when it came to _her_ and even now it still hurts so much that he has to grip at his chest in hopes that this can override the pain of his heart.

“ _Are you sure? I mean I did_ _–_ ”

“No. No, I’m not angry…”

“ _Is that so? Whew_ _…_ _I_ _’_ _m glad_ _…_ ” He sounds almost relieved, but he is not sure if he can trust his own intuition anymore. “ _Hey, I know it_ _’_ _s a little late now to make up for it, but do you want to go out for dinner today?_ ”

“…excuse me?”

For a reason he cannot explain, the entire situation is turning strange on him and He is suddenly eager to speak to him after many months of silence and even wishes to hang out with him on the very day he has decided to let Him go.

…why?

“ _Yeah, I mean, like it or not, I stood you up last night, so the least I can do is try and make amends, right?_ ”

It is so tempting to tell him yes and agree to the offer and his heart feels like it is about to leap right out of his chest, but he shuts his eyes tight and takes a deep breath, preparing himself to say what he does not want to say but he knows he has to, because he cannot be with Him anymore, since he will never be as important to Him as _she_.

“I’m sorry, Kiryuu-kun, but I… I already ate.”

“ _…_ _oh._ ”

And now comes the most difficult part, the part he is dreading to say, but perhaps, in a way, it can be called as retribution, so if he is honest with himself, he has every right to say the three words he has been forced to endure for months.

“Maybe next time?”

“ _…_ _yeah_ _…_ _next time_ _…_ _I_ _’_ _ll_ _…_ _I_ _’_ _ll see you tomorrow at school, okay?_ ”

“…sure. Ja ne.”

“ _Ja ne_ _…_ ”

He wordlessly flips the phone shut, and then proceeds to stare at the contraption as though it has committed some form of heinous crime against him, before he gives a soft sigh as he comes to the realization that he cannot fret for long about it, because he still has to go to school tomorrow and he has no time to be contemplating about ifs or buts. And so he sets his phone on his nightstand and gets changed into his sleep clothes and he prepares himself to go to bed, spending only a few moments in the washroom to brush his teeth, and he barely spares his own reflection a glance, for he does not want to know what kind of expression is on his face.

When he comes back into the main room he is more than a little surprised when he sees his phone blinking its light at him to signal he has just received a new mail and he worries that it may have been Him, and yet he opens his phone anyway to read it.

What he reads then is enough to make a smile play over his face again.

“ _As the sun sets beyond the field_  
To make place for the long night  
I wish upon you a peaceful sleep  
‘ _Til the rise of dawn_ _’_ _s light_ ”

“Ha… haha…”

He is not even aware he is laughing until he covers his mouth to stop it and he quickly shakes his head as he moves his fingers and begins to type a small response to the silly little rhyme they have just sent him.

“ _Just shut up and go to sleep, dummy. -chu-_ ”

Before he sends the mail however he debates on removing the last part, because he does not wish to appear overly excited over such a little thing, but after a long debate with himself, he presses the send button and flicks off the lights before he lays down to both try to sleep and to wait for a possible response, and the wait takes only a few moments as his phone gives a small beep to let him know he has another mail, which he opens right away.

“ _And good night to you, too,_ _“_ _dear_ _”_ _. -chu-_ ”

Once again he feels himself breaking out into a smile and he closes his eyes as he flips his phone shut once again, his earlier feelings of worry and anxiety washed away with only two short messages, and as his consciousness slips into the realm of sleep, he feels as though his life will finally turn around for the better.

Until the dawn of morning he has slept, slept until his phone rang by his ear to inform him it was time to wake for the day and he merely sits up with a weary yawn and begins to try and banish the sleep from his body, rubbing it from his eyes and splashing his face with water before he gets dressed just as he would have done every other day, but there is one thing he does not do because he feels like there is no more need and that is that he refuses to stand before the mirror and study his apparel. When he is done, he merely eats breakfast, fixes a bento for lunch and after a moment of thought fixes one more and only one more, both which he places inside his shoulder bag along with the rest of his supplies and then he grabs his phone and keys and leaves his apartment behind.

He arrives at school well before the first bell has rung and only a small handful of students is there as well that he does not bother with as he parks his bicycle in the corresponding area, setting his bag on the luggage rack as he always does so he can properly lock it. But as he gets up, he accidentally hits it and it tips over and he reaches for it quickly, but he is not quick enough…

…but He is…

“Careful there, Sakuraba-kun,” He says with that giggle of His, and he freezes.

He has not even heard Him approach and His presence has him both anxious and fearful, because he cannot comprehend his current situation in the slightest as He holds out his bag to him, still smiling that small, infernal smile he has learned means only trouble…

“…Kiryuu-kun…” he says warily as he accepts his bag and slings it over his head again, “…thank you…”

“Hihi. Anytime, _dear_ , anytime.”

He does not know what kind of response he has been expecting but the one he has been given was certainly not it and his fingers tighten along the strap of his bag as his mouth almost immediately opens in response to the endearment he has not heard from Him in years as though nothing has changed from when he and Him were mere children.

“I told you not to call me that!”

“Aww, but why? It’s _sooo_ fun seeing you get flustered about it.”

His heart skips a beat when those all too familiar yet so foreign words filter into his mind and he feels himself grow tense, because this entire situation is just too unreal and he feels like any moment he will wake from this dream and find himself being ignored once again, and he does not think he can stand to have that happen again, and yet he also does not wish to speak to Him anymore, because if he does, he fear he will never be able to let Him go.

He keeps his face indifferent as he turns away and begins to walk away to the school building with his plan being to ignore Him for the rest of the day because he is sure this is just a fluke and will never happen again…

“Ah, Sakuraba-kun, wait!”

When His hand grabs him by his wrist he feels his entire frame freeze up for a few scant seconds, but then he reacts faster than he had thought possible and he pulls his hand loose as he spins around and opens his mouth and he speaks in a voice that sounds alien even to himself.

“Don’t touch me!”

He watches as He backpedals in what he can only assume is alarm, staring at him with a look that one would use if a person had just sprouted an extra limb of some description, and he is shocked at himself that he has actually said anything like that, and so he quickly looks away, confused, tormented, unsure and haunted, because this situation cannot possibly be real, right?

“…You’re still mad at me, huh?”

He blinks and looks to Him, but He is looking down and fiddling with His hair, twirling it around his finger in what he knows is a small nervous gesture He has apparently never gotten over, and his confusion keeps growing greater by the second as He sighs softly as though He is resigning Himself to some sort of fate.

“…mad?”

“About Saturday.”

“I already told you I’m not!”

“Then why are you yelling?”

“I am _not_ yell–…” he pauses his own words to run a hand through his hair, trying to understand just what is suddenly going on, as it is almost as if he has jumped into one of those overdramatic series he recalls his mother watching often as a child and it was beginning to scare him. “Look… what does it even matter? Even if I was mad–which I’m not–it isn’t going to change anything, is it?”

“…I suppose it doesn’t…” He admits with His arms crossed over His chest, which he knows means that He is either thinking very deeply or truly anxious or nervous about something, though His expression is making him think more and more that it is the latter of the two options despite that he does not understand why He is either anxious or nervous, because He certainly has no reason to, he believes. “But still, it’s because of that fact that I need to make it up to you somehow. …I just don’t know _how_ yet…”

That last part is quiet, as though He has not intended to let him hear, and so he does not mention that particular part as he says: “It’s fine already… there’s no rush about it, so just take your time.”

He does not respond to his words right away, before He takes a breath and looks up to him again, His expression becoming almost determined as He relaxes his stance somewhat by placing His hands into the back pockets of His jeans, a sign that means He is trying to appear calm and collected while he is anything but, and in the back of his mind, he realizes that he knows Him and His behavior much more than he has originally thought possible and it is almost frightening him to the point where he is visibly shaking.

“Then… how about I start by treating you to lunch today?”

“…say what?”

“Hihi. Mother finally admitted she is a lousy cook so she’s been giving me money to buy lunch from the cafeteria. I got her to give me some extra today so I have plenty to spare for us both.”

Had this been any other day, any other day at all, he would have jumped upon the chance, possibly would have been so thrilled he might have fainted… but…

“I’m afraid I can’t today. I already made plans with… s-someone else…”

He cannot say their name to Him he realizes, because their name is a name that is most definitely not the name of a woman and not a name of anyone He may know by chance and while he is absolutely not ashamed of being in a relationship with them, he does not want Him to know of them just yet even though He will most likely see them when they come to the school like they have promised him, but he cannot lie to Him either, no matter how much he tries to.

He simply cannot lie to Him…

“…someone else?”

When He repeats those two words, as though to Himself, His eyes narrow into slits and he feels his body shake subtly as he takes in the expression on His face and realizes that He is very much displeased and he attempts to suppress it by gripping the strap of his bag tightly enough that he feels his joints crack from the force exerted on them. He knows he needs to speak fast if he wishes for this to end without any form of argument, but there are only so few words he can say to Him without invoking His wrath, something he has never done and he is not inclined to find out exactly what happens when He is as angry as He appears to be getting, but he opens his mouth anyway…

“…yeah, sorry… Maybe next time?”

And again, he speaks the only words he has never wanted to say to anyone before, and yet they come from his mouth as though it is only natural for him to be saying them, and that fact alone is enough to scare him.

“…yeah, sure…”

He is saved from any further discussion when the first bell rings and he takes this chance almost immediately and turns away as he starts to walk to the building, though he does pause for one step to speak to Him again with a barely noticeable turn of his head.

“Class is starting, let’s go…”

He does not respond, but he has not been expecting much of one, and so he merely walks ahead, maintaining a firm grip upon his bag and refusing to look back to Him, for he does not wish to see what kind of look He is giving him right then, but he fears it must be one that will likely terrify him if he dares look to Him as he can feel His gaze upon the back of his skull, and it makes him bite his lip until he almost draws blood, but he forces himself to ignore it and keep going.

Because all he can do now is keep moving forward…

He refuses to stand still and dwell on something he knows will never be any longer…

The day progresses slowly, much slower than he is used to, and he cannot help but feel like He is watching him throughout it all, but he does not dare to look up to Him to check if He really is, because in all honesty, he does not even want to know. It seems to take forever for English to come to an end and it is time for lunch to start and when it finally does, he is not aware he is already halfway out the door until he is and he hears his name being called.

“Sakuraba-kun!”

He frowns a bit in confusion when he does not recognize the voice right away, but when he looks back he remembers that the voice belongs to his ex-Stalker and that she is the one who has just called out to him.

“…Misaki-chan…”

His ex-Stalker smiles at him, but he does not smile back because he is now even more confused than ever before as he does not understand why she would suddenly talk to him after so long and while he knows it is true that he and his ex-Stalker have vowed to still be friends she has not addressed him much like his other friends.

“Sakuraba-kun, are you okay? You seem… different, somehow…”

Different, she says, but he fails to understand what his ex-Stalker is talking about, because the only things that have changed since the week prior are his determination to try and move on with his life by giving up on Him, though it is beginning to crumble already from the second thing that has changed; the fact that He has talked to him and seemed more than content to pretend like the last few months have never happened. He does not understand why now, when he has finally decided to give up on Him, He wishes to speak to him again.

“…how am I different?”

“Well… I’m not sure… you just look, well, a little lost, or something…”

Has she really not noticed in how much pain he has been these last few months…?

Has _anyone_ noticed at all…?

While he admits that he has been attempting to hide his anguish from everyone, does that justify why no one has sought him out before?

“…I don’t think anything’s changed since last week…”

“You sure?”

“…yeah.”

“Misaki-chan.”

His hand immediately tightens along the strap of his bag when he hears His voice speak solemnly and he watches with a gaze that seems almost detached though he doubts that anyone will notice this look at all as He approaches them, His hands placed once more in his back pockets.

“Sorry to intrude, but I do believe you’re keeping Sakuraba-kun away from his little date.”

“…date?” he whispers to himself in confusion but his words are drowned out by his ex-Stalker’s overly loud exclamation.

“What?! What do you mean ‘date’?!”

“Precisely as I said,” He says with a giggle as He twirls His finger through His hair again. “It would seem our dear friend has a date during lunch.”

“…it’s not a date…” he murmurs softly, but his words go unheard as his ex-Stalker gives a startled cry.

“What?! Is that true, Sakuraba-kun?! Why didn’t you tell us you had a girlfriend?!”

He wants to say so badly that he has not told anyone because he had believed there would be no one who would care enough to hear the news but also that he saw no need to give such news because he does not have a girlfriend but instead a boyfriend, but he is unsure of how either of these comments will be received, and so he pushes his hand into his pocket and looks away from Him and his ex-Stalker. He does not understand from where this sudden interest in him has stemmed from, but he wishes it would stop before he is unable to keep his determination to throw aside his love for Him…

**_Beep_ **

He blinks as the sound comes from his pocket and his phone which is in fact the source of the sound as it buzzes softly against his fingers but he feels he does not even need to check to know who his latest mail has come from and so he pulls it out and flips it open immediately without paying attention to what He and his ex-Stalker are saying about it.

“ _Like the guards of Her Royal Highness_  
Out here I shall wait  
For you to join me  
At this iron wrought gate”

“…hah… hahaha…”

He quickly covers his mouth and shuts his eyes to contain his laughter and smile, and he does not even care if He and his ex-Stalker are staring at him in what he believes is surprise or confusion, and instead turns and leaves the room, though he does remember to tell quickly that he has to go and he ignores how He calls out for him to wait and instead he writes a quick response to let them know he will come out soon and also asks them where exactly they are waiting for him, though he can guess from the small mail alone. When the response comes barely a minute later, he is already halfway down the stairway though he is not expecting the call that he receives instead and yet he still picks up, whispering their name as he does.

“ _Good afternoon to you, too, Sakura-kun. How are you this fine day?_ _”_

He pauses briefly in his steps as he suddenly becomes unsure of how to answer to that question, because he really does not know what it is he feels right now, and so he sighs as he looks sideways out the window of the staircase, before he answers their question with his most honest possible answer.

“I… I don’t know… I’m… I’m just so confused…”

“ _Why, what_ _’_ _s wrong, Sakura-kun?_ ”

“…I’ll tell you when–…?”

He pauses suddenly as he squints and tilts his head to the side in silent question for he just realizes he can see the school gate from his position upon the staircase but he is not entirely sure if he is actually seeing what he thinks he is seeing or if it is just merely a trick of the light in some way or another.

“…hey.”

“ _Yes?_ ”

“Could you raise your left hand?”

“ _Hm? Whatever for?_ ”

“Please?”

He holds his breath for a few long seconds and is almost expecting nothing to happen, but then the person he is watching casually brings up their left hand and waves it once in the direction of the building.

“ _There. I just waved, too._ ”

“…Yeah, I saw.”

“ _Oooh, so that is why. Heheh._”

He tries to keep a smile at bay, but he fails as he asks them: “What are you _wearing_?”

“ _Heheh. What does it look like, dear?_ ”

“Don’t call me that… and it looks like a skirt…”

“ _Well,_ _‘_ _tis called a_ _‘_ _dress_ _’_ _, Sakura-kun._ ”

For what has to be the first time in quite possibly years, he wants to hit himself to his head as he is having more and more difficulty keeping his laughter under control while shaking his head.

“…haha… I… I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

“ _Very well, dear. Don_ _’_ _t keep me waiting long, though_ _…_ _I_ _’_ _ll be lonely._ ”

He lets the endearment slide, just this once, and he hangs up with the promise of being there soon and then he is almost running down the staircase and he somehow avoids hitting any other people as he goes to the shoe lockers to collect his outdoor shoes and he pulls them on quickly before he finally goes to meet them at the gate, where they are still waiting in the same spot as he had just seen them, and he calls out, though not with their name, and they look up curiously and then smile to him. They step up to him quickly and immediately hug him tight and kiss him in the same moment that he comes in range and this makes him give a small yelp of surprise, but then he melts into the embrace and kisses them back before they finally move back.

He licks his lips curiously as he realizes there is an odd and foreign taste on them now, but it is a taste he vaguely remembers having tasted elsewhere before, though certainly never on another person’s lips and he thinks about it for only a few seconds before a small smile plays on his mouth when he is able to place the taste and he asks: “Cherries?”

“Mmhmm. Do you like it?” they ask him with their lips as red as the fruit they taste of curled up into a small playful smile.

He thinks about answering with words for a moment, but shortly after he determines that there is a better way to reply and so he closes the distance between his and their mouth and makes it a point to run his tongue along their cherry red lips lavishly before he finally pulls away and whispers to them: “Is that answer enough?”

“Mmm, yes, I believe it is,” they purr softly with their mouth only a small space away from his own, and they grace over his lips one more time before they pull away and ask him softly: “Come… let us go somewhere more private, shall we?”

He does not object when they take hold of his hand and lightly tug him along, away from the school building and to the park resting just across from it, and he takes note of the fact that even their nails are painted a deep red like their lips, with light red painted around his eyes like that first night he met them and it matches perfectly with their white dress with its layered skirt and the easy red step-in shoes, jacket and hair ribbon folded into a bow they wear and he soon also notices they are even wearing stockings that make their legs seem much darker than its normal pale appearance and he begins to wonder something in the back of his mind that he is not sure he wants an answer to.

After a little while of walking they pause by a bench and move to sit on it, being mindful of their dress and he joins them shortly after and once he has done so, they move in closer and lean against his side with their head resting on his shoulder while they reach out to hold onto his hand.

“Sakura-kun… do you want to talk about it?” they ask him softly as they squeeze the hand they are holding.

He considers the question for a while, not sure if he should really tell them about what has been going on all day, because really it is not their problem, but as they run their thumb over the back of his in circles in a way he knows is to soothe his nerves, he gives in and begins to speak softly as he rests his head against theirs.

“I’m… just so confused. Last week… none of my… friends… seemed aware of my presence, and… suddenly… everyone’s started approaching me again…”

“Just like that? And you don’t know why?”

“…no.”

“Have you asked them?”

“…no… I… I’m not sure I want to know why…”

“Hm… I see… most confusing indeed…”

Their fingers rub along the back of his hand for a moment longer before they slowly flip his hand over and take hold of it gently with their own, and he squeezes back when they squeeze gently as though to let him know without words that they will listen to him.

“…I don’t understand…” he confesses softly as he shuts his eyes and lets a sigh pass through his lips, before he continues to speak to them quietly, “I’ve kept hoping… kept hoping that he would see me as… something more… or at least talk to me again… and the moment I’ve decided I was moving on… he…”

“Ssshh, Sakura-kun, sshh, ‘tis okay… it will be okay…” they whisper to him as they place a brief kiss on his cheek, before they murmur in a soothing way, “I know it must feel like an impossible task to replace him, pardon my phrasing, but you cannot let him get to you. You’ve decided to let him go, so do not let him urge you into clinging on tighter than ever.”

He does not like to hear those words, but he knows that they are right and that he cannot continue to wish for something that will never be, something that never can be, and he is well aware that he has to learn to let go of his feelings of love for Him, but that is something that is much easier said than done and especially if He decides to speak to him again like he and Him once used to talk, as it will make him want to keep the love he feels for Him close and not let go, but he knows that he has to.

He _has_ to…

A sound that is actually very familiar to his ears makes them tense for a moment, and he blinks once before he turns to them in silent question, and they allow a small chuckle of what can only be embarrassment when he does, before they murmur: “I apologize… I’ve been busy rehearsing since this morning, thus I haven’t had much time to eat yet.”

He smiles a bit at the apology and sits up straight while letting go of their hand to reach into his bag and he feels their eyes on him as he carefully fishes out the two boxes he has prepared that morning, before he turns to them and holds out one of them while saying to them: “Then… take this.”

They blink at him rather oddly as though they have never seen a bento in all their life and it takes several moments and another grumble from their stomach before they slowly accept the offered box with a quiet thanks before placing it on their lap and almost cautiously opening the lid and looking inside.

“…wow…” they say almost immediately though still quietly as they set the lid under the box itself while examining the contents with a small hint of what he believes is curiosity and some surprise, before they speak again to say; “This looks… really good, Sakura-kun.”

“Maybe, but it’s meant to be eaten, so maybe you should stop staring and start eating.”

The words leave his mouth before he can even consider them in his head and a pang of nostalgia hits him when he recalls a time when he spoke those same words to Him a long time ago, but he tries to shove the feeling out of his heart before it can take root and he thinks he has managed to succeed at least a little bit at that as they allow a small chuckle.

“Right, of course. Pardon me,” they say as he also opens his box and removes the chopsticks he has placed in it as they do the same with their own and start to eat and he does not mind if they do so ahead of him because he already knows that they must be hungry after what he can only assume were hours’ worth or rehearsing without getting the chance either to take a break or to be allowed to eat much more than a cracker. Despite that they are clearly starving, they keep eating politely while occasionally telling him in-between bites that the food tastes just as it looks and better, a comment that has him looking away with his cheeks tinted red while he pushes a piece of rice ball in his mouth to justify why he is looking away though he is certain they already know.

Other than the occasional compliment from them, lunch proceeds in a silence that he finds he does not mind as much because he knows it is not a silence that means he is being ignored, but rather a silence in which both simply appreciate each other’s company as they eat, let alone it would have been rather rude to speak while eating. And yet, as they continue to eat, he cannot help himself as he comes to the realization that they eat almost exactly the same way He does, from the way they lightly twist their wrist to place the food at the end of their chopsticks in their mouth to how they lean forward with one hand held up in a bowl-shape when something threatens to spill from their lips, never mind the fact that they look more like a girl than a man in that dress.

He just cannot help himself but notice these subtle similarities and it makes his heart ache painfully at the constant reminder that, despite these similarities, they will never be the same as Him no matter how much he wishes that they were deep down and he tries to shake the thoughts away and focuses instead on his own meal, but he finds he is not feeling that hungry and yet he forces himself to swallow everything for he refuses to waste away from lack of nutrition.

They finish a few moments before he does, but he is not really surprised at that, given that they started much earlier, let alone he had been staring at them for a while as they ate, so really it was not so surprising if you thought about it logically, and they smile and sigh contently, before they look to him with that same smile.

“Thank you, Sakura-kun. That was very delicious.”

He smiles a bit back at them, but even to himself it feels forced, and so he stops it and looks away from them, not understanding why his emotions are being so overly conflicting with each other but not liking it because it almost feels like he is betraying their trust by continuing to think about Him instead of them. While it is true he cannot help thinking about Him when he looks to them not just because of their physical similarities but also because of how they move in such a similar fashion to Him.

It was almost scary just how similar they truly were to Him and if he does not know better he is almost willing to say that they are in some way or another related to Him.

When they lightly touch his hand and squeeze, he looks to them in silent question just as they move forward and place a soft kiss upon his cheek without saying anything, and then they lay their head upon his shoulder again with their eyes shut delicately while remaining poised like the girl they are posing to be. They speak not a word and so he decides for the moment to leave the matter be and lets his head rest against theirs as he flips his hand around to link his fingers with theirs and like that he and they stay in silence, quietly enjoying the company of the other, and he wishes to himself to never let this end and to allow him to live once more.

Of course such joy will never last forever, he knows this, but that does not mean he is happy when he checks his phone for a moment and realizes he has to return to the building before he is late and they do not seem overly thrilled to say goodbye either, but they do so anyway with a quiet promise to text him later tonight as they squeeze his hand softly and then leave him to head back to the school and of course he does even though he really does not want to.

The person whom he meets upon reaching the school gates is the one person he has not been expecting nor wanting to see however, but he knows he has no choice but to move ahead as he cannot not go to the building in a lame attempt to not have to see the only person he does not wish to speak to for fear of his heart ripping itself apart.

“…Ah, Sakuraba-kun.”

“…Kiryuu-kun…”

Why is He here…?

“I was about to come find you… just… in case you lost track of time…”

It is an excuse and he is certain that He knows that he can see through it, but he does not know why He would even need to make an excuse in the first place and he is uncertain about how to ask or if there even is a way to ask such a thing, and so he does not bring it up and instead goes along with the poor excuse as though it was something that has been said with complete sincerity.

“…I see… well… thanks… I guess…”

“…you ‘guess’?”

He only shrugs his shoulder once before he starts to walk again and wordlessly walks past Him without really looking Him in the eye because he fears his carefully erected walls that he made to protect himself will be torn down in an instant the moment that he does.

“…Sakuraba-kun.”

He pauses despite the fact that he does not want to do so and he already knows that he is going to regret the conversation that will follow his response, but he also knows that there is no escaping it and that he will be forced to have this discussion at one point or another anyway.

“…yeah?”

“…are you happy with… that person?”

He does not know why He refers to them like that but a small bubble of fear begins to grow in his gut when a possibility presents itself that He may just already know and that He has seen through their disguise despite how perfect it is and how it is almost impossible to tell that they are in fact a man because he is not sure he wants to know what He is thinking about them…

“…I suppose…”

“…you ‘suppose’?”

“…yeah…”

“…I… see…” He says the words quietly, and he is unsure whether He intends to say more or if that is it, but when he mentally prepares himself for the step forward so as to return to the building, that is when He decides to speak again, “Hey… Sakuraba-kun…”

“…yeah?”

“…no, it’s nothing. Never mind… Let’s just go.”

“…sure.”

He does not want to talk about them anymore and especially not to Him, because he is still afraid of what His reaction will be when He learns that he is in a relationship with another man rather than a girl like he is sure everyone believes now and so he does not question why He has decided to drop the subject and merely accepts that it is dropped and finally begins to walk forward, and he hears Him following close behind, but he cannot allow himself to dwell on it for long, because he has to learn, the hard way if needed, to let Him go…

And as he gradually builds up the fragile house of cards that has become his life, he continues to live on and on as he builds up a new pattern in his daily life  and he learns to balance school with both his work and the little free time he has to spend as much time as he can with them, even though his… friends… are continuously trying to get him involved in activities they can do together even when _she_ returns from the hospital which he realizes makes him more confused than ever as he was almost certain that things would return to what he has considered to be normal for the last few months once _she_ returned to school. And yet he always turns his friends down, saying that he has already made plans and always finishes with the very words they have used with him so many times before;

_Maybe next time_

He is not sure if they understand the significance of how many times he says those words, but he is beginning to suspect that He is starting to realize the reason because every time he speaks those words His body goes tense and His left eyebrow twitches subtly to inform anyone caring to watch that He is feeling less than perfect at that specific moment though it will likely take the jaws of life to get Him to spill what it is He is currently feeling. But he no longer has the time or the desire to think about Him, because he knows he can no longer let Him hold control over his heart and he knows he has to move on and forget about Him so that he can find a place where he and Him can both be happy, and the only way to do that he has realized is to widen the gap between himself and Him.

As time passes, he also comes to meet their friend that they mentioned before, the one who he reminds them of, when they become ill and are unable to work but he is unsure if he sees the connection between himself and their friend as their friend has eyes that are the color of ice and long hair of deep red fire only one shade different than his own and because of this he feels that their friend is nothing like him as far as he can see but he has decided to not question it and he simply goes along with it though he can say without thinking about it that their friend is a kind person. Their friend only helps them on the side as they have already said and he is more than a little surprised when he realizes that their friend is a freelance artist who has based his style upon that of his idol and one other who he recalls is another famous artist from when he was still a child and their friend seems to enjoy treating him like a younger brother and he does not mind in the slightest since he has never had a brother to speak of and the thought of actually having someone like it leaves him feeling slightly giddy, something he has only experienced a few times before in his life.

So he is a little sad when he hears that their friend is leaving for a few months.

“…to Canada?” he asks when their friend comes out with the news and even they seem a tad surprised.

“Did you not say you were not likely to go, though?” they ask their friend just as he takes a bite from his donut.

“Yeah, I did… but see, Kamui’s offered to pay for the hotel _and_ the costs for the con, meaning I’d only need to buy the plane ticket,” their friend explains after swallowing the bite he had taken and then paused to take a long gulp of his coffee. “Ticket, hotel _and_ con is expensive… Ticket alone I can manage.”

“My my, what a very generous boyfriend you have there, Kurenai-kun,” they say with a small smirk as they sip their cafe au lait and then they add with a cheeky smile, “I don’t suppose there is any chance he would consider treating us as well, hm?”

“Stuff it, Birdy,” their friend growls out, but he is smirking as well. “As if you have _time_ to waste in the cold north.”

“True… but a man can dream, ne?”

“So just grow wings and fly. That’d be cheaper.”

“I do believe I’ve mentioned my tail grows too long to allow me flight, Kurenai-kun.”

The only response they receive is an amused chuckle.

“…your… I mean, Kamui-san, he… doesn’t like coming with us… does he?” he asks slowly, a bit unsure still at addressing their friend’s lover, for he has never met him, but he has seen pictures and from what he can tell he is a very tall person, thus addressing him formally seemed almost natural.

“Oy, Neku, I told you it’s _fine_ calling him ‘Kamui’. He’s only a few months older than me, after all,” their friend says as he points to him with the remains of his donut before he pops it into his mouth, speaking again once he has swallowed, “And nah. He’s not much of an outgoing guy. Prolly would’ve ended up cooped up in his room all day if I didn’t drag his sorry ass out every now and again…”

When he hears those words he cannot help but blink and tilt his head, because something about that statement strikes him as strangely off but he is not certain what it can be, though he has no chance to find out as their guardian approaches casually to take their empty cups and chuckles out while adjusting his sunglasses, though he still does not see the point of wearing sunglasses if you are going to wear them almost on the tip of your nose anyway but he supposes it is part of the barista look: “Heh. If he’s such an ‘indoor’ type of guy, why is he treating you to a long weekend out of town?”

“I don’t know, I was surprised ‘bout that, too,” their friend says with a small grumble as he finishes his drink and passes their guardian his cup before he continues speaking, “but oh well. I ain’t complaining. Saves me some cash, plus I get to hang out with ‘m _without_ having to force him out the door.”

They allow a small chuckle of their own and then speak with a casual air surrounding them: “‘Tis times like this that I wonder whether or not you actually forced him into a relationship with you, dear.”

“ _Do. Not. Call. Me. **Dear** , beak face!!_” their friend hisses out dangerously but it only causes them to laugh, and he supposes that that is one point where he and their friend are the same and that is the fact that they both hate to be addressed as ‘dear’ though he is not sure of their friend’s reason.

Time passes and only seven days later, he and they are seeing their friend off at the airport and their friend leaves with a promise of bringing back some good souvenirs when he finally returns and then their friend is gone and he cannot help but watch the large contraption fly away into the heavens, and briefly he finds himself wondering what it would be like to fly through the skies like a bird, unrestrained and free to go wherever without anyone telling you where you can and where you cannot go. He watches the large contraption go and he wishes softly to himself, wistfully because he is sure it will never happen, to let him grow wings and allow him to go wherever he so wishes, and when he finishes his silent wish they place their hand along his upon the railing as he and they remain standing right there to watch the sky in serene silence and he wonders briefly to himself as he recalls His question;

_Are you happy with that person?_

Even after months of being together he does not have an answer even to himself because he is unsure if he even remembers what it feels like to be happy, but he will be lying if he says that he wants to break with them in any way shape or form because he can no longer imagine how to live if they ever leave him alone to fend for himself again.

He does not want to be alone anymore…

“Ne… Sakura-kun…”

“…hm?”

He is feeling rather sleepy despite the cold wind that is brewing and he does not really want to go anywhere even though he is well aware that he probably should so as to not freeze to death, but really he cannot care much.

“This weekend… I believe we will have been together for three months, now…” they whisper softly as he rests his head lazily on their shoulder and they respond to that by briefly kissing the top of his head before speaking again, “Do you want to go somewhere with me this Saturday?”

He is both sleepy and lazy but that does not prevent him from answering the question honestly because there really is only one answer to give to them.

“Mmm… sure.”

He can feel them smile against the top of his head as he shuts his eyes to rest a little even though he has barely done anything today and then they squeeze his hand softly and he responds by winding his thumb around theirs as he does not want the back of his hand to rest against the railing because that will surely hurt and he wonders if this is happiness because he really likes being like this and he wishes that it can stay like this from now on…

And yet he finds himself wishing also for something else entirely… finds himself wishing feverishly for His presence beside him, but he knows that he cannot make that wish, because he no longer has that right, in fact, he is willing to go far enough to say he may have never had the right for it and so he suppresses his desire to make that wish, suppresses the urges he feels to shout out His name instead of theirs whenever they touch him because he knows he cannot do that to either Him or them. But he does not understand why those feelings persist because he has been doing everything in his power to banish Him from his heart in the hope of getting his life back on track again and yet all it appears to have done is make him cling onto Him tighter than ever, the exact opposite effect he has been aiming for and he has no idea how he has to handle his own emotions anymore because whenever he thinks on them too long his head will begin to swirl and pound with a headache that leaves him dizzy and in pain.

He does not speak of this to them and instead stays by them as close as he dares as though their presence will make his thoughts his own again even though he already knows it will not help but he does it regardless because it will distract him at least for the moment from the swirling mass his mind has become.

They bring him home when the day has come to an end and kiss him goodbye with a quiet promise to mail later before they leave as he walks into his apartment again and absently he wonders if perhaps they already know of his inner turmoil and if he thinks about it carefully, he supposes that it is highly likely because they always have seemed more in tune with what he feels than even he himself has, and maybe that is why they came with the idea for the outing this Saturday and he begins to wonder if maybe he should get them a present to celebrate his and their relationship lasting as long as it has and so he takes out his phone when he arrives in his apartment and slowly scrolls through his list of contacts before he dials as he sits down on the bed.

“ _Hello, WildKat Cafe._ ”

“Ah… hello Mr. H…”

“ _Aah, Phones. Wasn_ _’_ _t expecting to hear from ya, kid,_ ” their guardian chuckles out from the other end and he does not know how or where their guardian heard of that nickname but he has been unable to get it to go away but he supposes it really does not matter too much, and he refocuses on the conversation as it continues, “ _I_ _’_ _m afraid K_ _’_ _s not in yet. Would be better if you called a little later._ ”

“Um… I… wasn’t actually looking for him…”

“ _Oh?_ ”

“Well… um… y-you see…”

A little bit unsure he begins to relay his problem to their guardian and the man listens with only an occasional hum to let it be known he understands and when he finally asks the question he has been meaning to ask, the answer he receives from their guardian is a simple one;

“ _Phones, you worry far too much. Really, kid, it_ _’_ _ll be a_ _’_ _ight. I_ _’_ _m sure K will be happy with whatever you get_ _‘_ _im._ ”

“…you think so?”

“ _I know so. So stop worrying about it, a_ _’_ _ight? Enjoy the moment._ ”

“…! …what?”

He remembers that phrase well, because it is a message that his idol has poured into the works he loves so very much, but he has always been sure he was the only person to truly know that the message was hidden over and over again in his idol’s work.

“ _Hm? Something wrong, Phones?_ ”

“N-no… just… what you just said… it’s… …no…never mind… it’s nothing…”

It cannot be, he determines with a small hint of disappointment audible in his voice. Surely their guardian cannot be the same as his idol, because really, how big are those chances, really? It was much easier to think that their guardian was also a fan of his idol and maybe that was even how they knew of his idol in the first place.

“ _If you say so, kid. Just remember what I told ya and it_ _’_ _ll be fine. A_ _’_ _ight?_ ”

“…y-yeah, okay… thanks Mr. H.”

“ _Heh. Anytime, Phones, anytime._ ”

He has given up on trying to correct their guardian and so he merely says goodbye and hangs up and finally just drops backwards to stare up to his ceiling, deep in thought about the words that have just been spoken to him and wondering what to do with them since they have not given him the slightest clue about what he is to do now, even after the words of encouragement that anything he can give will be fine…

“ _Caaalling, you hear the caaalling  
Caaalling, someone is caaalling_ ”

The sound startles him and he almost bolts upright as he looks to his phone in confusion because he has not been expecting anyone to call him today because he had said already to his “friends” that he had had different plans today and would more than likely be unable to answer and yet the screen on his phone read his ex-Stalker’s name and this makes him a little curious as to why she of all people is calling him and that is why he answers the call.

“…hello?”

“ _Ah, Sakuraba-kun! Guess I_ _’_ _ve got good timing_ _…_ _Hey, are you free next weekend?_ ”

“…next weekend…? Why?”

“ _Well there_ _’_ _s a carnival coming into Shibuya next week and we were thinking of all going together so I thought_ _–_ ”

“…sorry, Misaki-chan…”

“ _Huh?_ ”

“As… as much as I’d love to… I can’t. I already have something planned next Saturday.”

“ _Well_ _…_ _Sunday then?_ ”

“I… may be out late the day before… late enough for it to be ‘early’, I guess… so… no… I’ll probably spend Sunday in bed. Sorry…”

“ _…_ _oh_ _…_ _is that so_ _…_ _?_ ”

“…yeah… maybe next time, okay?”

“ _…_ _yeah_ _…_ _okay_ _…_ ”

“…ja ne, Misaki-chan,” he says and hangs up before she can give a reply in return, and he knows that it is not a nice thing to do, but he supposes it is only fair, considering the circumstances from before.

“ _Caaalling, you hear the caaalling_

 _Caaalling, someone is caaalling_ ”

He almost drops his phone in surprise when it rings again only a few short minutes after he has hung up on his ex-Stalker and he looks to the gadget in question before he answers the call, this time forgetting to check the screen for the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“ _…_ _hey, Sakuraba-kun._ ”

His hand tangles in the sheets when he realizes the voice belong to exactly who he has already been thinking of and did not wish to speak to, but he supposes it makes little difference now that he has already answered the call.

“…Kiryuu-kun…”

“ _…_ _Misaki-chan said you were busy next week. That so?_ ”

“…yeah…”

“ _…_ _are you_ _…_ _going out with_ _…_ ”

“…Neko-chan? Yes…”

He still does not comprehend why they have told him to use that nickname for them when he is talking to his friends, or how they even came up with something like that, but they promised to explain it one of these days and so he will trust their word.

“ _…_ _why? Didn_ _’_ _t you two go out this week already?_ ”

“…not really… because Neko-chan’s friend was flying out today we… we didn’t get much time alone after…”

“ _…_ _oh._ ”

He hears a sound in the background and it is a sound he recognizes very well and because of that he is speaking before his brain has the chance to catch up to his mouth.

“…are you okay?”

“ _Huh?_ ”

“You’re standing on the balcony… aren’t you?”

“ _…_ _!_ _…_ _how did you_ _…_ _?_ ”

“The wind is blowing in your phone… it always does that when you’re on the balcony.”

“ _Oh_ _…_ _I_ _…_ _I see_ _…_ _…_ _I_ _’_ _m okay, though. Nothing_ _’_ _s wrong._ ”

“…’liar liar pants on fire’.”

“ _…_ _eh?_ ”

“You only go to the balcony for two reasons; stargazing and when something is bothering you. It’s too early for the stars to be out… so why are you out there?”

Again, he is startled by how much he truly knows about Him and His behavior and it is now really beginning to scare him because he is almost starting to feel as though he has been stalking Him which of course he is not, but it certainly feels like it.

“ _…_ _sigh_ _…_ _how do you always do that?_ ”

“…? Do what…?”

“ _How is it you always seem to know that something is wrong with me before I do? Am I_ _…_ _really that obvious_ _…_ _?_ ”

“…obvious… no. Just… we’ve known each other for… almost nine years now. So… well… I… guess that should be enough time to get to know a person… right?”

“ _…_ _yeah_ _…_ _you have a point_ _…_ ” He responds softly and he can almost swear He says something else but the words are lost in the wind. “ _…_ _ne, Sakuraba-kun?_ ”

“…yeah?”

“ _Do you_ _…_ _can we meet sometime next week? In the weekend, I mean_ _…_ ”

“…Kiryuu-kun… I can’t. I promised–”

“ _I_ _’_ _m not asking you to not meet Neko-chan, just_ _…_ _if it_ _’_ _s possible to meet. Maybe after?_ ”

Why why why does He have to make it so terribly difficult for him to let Him go? He knows that he cannot lie, knows that he cannot refuse if He just keeps pressing because eventually his stubbornness will collapse in on itself and he will say yes…

…but he just cannot do that anymore…

“…I’m sorry… I… really don’t think I can make it…”

“ _…_ _oh_ _…_ ”

The single syllable causes a flash of panic to rise in his chest and as much as he wishes to deny its existence he is aware it is something that will not go away until he has explained to Him why he cannot meet with Him after his meeting with them, but he also knows that he cannot tell Him exactly why either and so he chooses a middle road in which he does not lie but where he does not tell the complete truth either.

“…I’m sorry… it’s just… since it’s been three months since… since we started dating… I… I just…”

“ _No_ _…_ _no, it_ _’_ _s okay_ _…_ _I understand._ _…_ _maybe next time?_ ”

“…maybe next time…”

“ _…_ _okay_ _…_ _ja ne._ ”

“…ja ne.”

He hangs up after he has said those words and he scoots back to lay on his bed quietly and he takes deep breaths to try and calm his raging heartbeat though he is well aware that it is something that is not so easily done and so he remains silent as he tries to steer his thoughts away from Him.

Just as he makes that decision, his phone beeps and buzzes and he absently flips it open.

“ _As day passes to night_  
I shall safeguard your light  
So that it shall be your guiding ray  
Until night has passed to day”

He cannot stop himself from smiling at the small rhyme that they have sent to him to wish him good night and it still surprises him even after so long how easily they can come up with those small rhymes, both in English and in Japanese and he recalls a day when, just to see how long they would be able to hold on, they had spent an entire day speaking in nothing but rhyme. They had been able to last until nightfall, when he had decided to keep them occupied in a different and much more productive way.

Though he has to admit that it had been a little… awkward that time, because they had, once more, been dressed up in a girl’s clothes, and they had insisted then, since he had been the “man” in their little relation with how they were then, for him to take charge for once. Of course he had been nervous about that, given that they had, generally, always been the one actually in charge if you do not count that one time in their dressing room, a feat that even he was having trouble explaining to himself.

“…I wonder…” he murmurs softly to himself as that day replays in his head, but before he can finish it, he hits himself to the head with both hands and lets out a cry of frustration. “No! No no no no no! Dammit just… _no!_ ”

He shakes his head and gets up to get washed up before he goes to sleep because he fears the track his mind insists on following if he does not and so he steps into the shower and sighs in relief as the water almost seems to wash all his worries away. Like that he stays there for a while until the water begins to cool and he begins preparing for bed, laying down in the center and he breathes softly as he shuts his eyes and gradually falls into a dreamless sleep… or so he hopes…

If he has dreamed at all, though, he does not remember what it was about when he wakes again, for which he is slightly grateful though he still fears to know what his dreams that night have been about yet he does not take the time to think about it and he instead focuses on preparing himself for another long week. He does not have the time or leisure to do so anymore.

The days come and they go like whispers of the wind, but he does not much care anymore, and he thinks only of how his life will go from now on, and before he is even properly aware of it, Saturday has rolled in and he is carefully wrapping his present to them and securing the wrapping with tape to keep its contents a secret for as long as possible, before he starts to work on his apparel. They have already said to dress warmly with winter approaching steadily but also because they will be taking him someplace that is primarily located in the open air, though this still leaves him in a bit of a bind regarding what he has to wear.

When they come to pick him up, he has finally decided on loose jeans, shirt and sweater, covered by his jacket and his dark purple scarf secured around his neck, because he knows it will be quite cold on their motorbike, and they greet him with a kiss to his cheek, which he returns after only a brief moment of hesitation. He clicks the helmet shut around his head and climbs on behind them silently and only once they are sure he is holding on tight do they start off and he lightly ducks away into their back to preserve heat during the ride.

It takes only a short while to reach wherever they have decided to take him to and when he sees where they are, he has to confess that he is a bit surprised when he realizes where this is, because this can only be the carnival that his ex-Stalker spoke about to him last week. They notice, of course, and ask him if something is wrong, but he says no, nothing is wrong, even though a small bubble of panic enters his mind at the thought of running into anyone he knows while he is with them, but they pop it almost immediately by kissing him briefly, murmuring to him to calm himself and just enjoy.

How can he say no to that?

They guide him all the way, but they always ask at every attraction or game if he wants to try it and every time he says yes, of course he would like to, and they smile every time and he cannot help but wonder to himself if, with enough time and patience, he can come to love them like he has fallen in love with Him. He does not know the answer to that question yet, but he hopes to find the answer soon and he hopes that the answer will be a powerful, resounding “yes”.

“…? Wait…”

“Hm? What is it, Sakura-kun?”

“We missed one,” he says softly, and he gestures to the attraction they just walked past without them asking him if he wants to go in it, oddly enough, since thus far they asked him that at every game or attraction.

“…! You… you want to go in _there_?” they ask, but something in their voice sounds almost strained and he soon realizes that they seem almost a tad pale.

“Yeah… I think it’s fun…”

“F… fun? Really…?”

“Yeah…” he says, and he waits a few moments for any kind of response, but when none comes, he asks: “Are you scared?”

“What?! No! No of course I’m not scared! Let’s go!”

And then they are marching to the attraction with a slightly indignant huff, tugging him along by his hand, but he cannot help but smile softly when he feels their hand shaking and clutching his like a lifeline, and he cannot help but wonder if maybe they have even more in common with Him than he had already believed. They purchase the tickets and he and they proceed to wait in line, but they look like they are ready to bolt at any minute, and he lightly squeezes their hand in an attempt to calm them.

Once they are sitting in the cart and he settles beside them, he whispers as the bars are secured that they can hold him if they get scared, but of course they deny vehemently that they will be scared at all, but he believes otherwise. And when the cart begins to move and he feels them tense sharply beside him, he cannot help but be even more certain.

It is dark when the cart enters the attraction and he is not surprised that it is, nor is he surprised when he feels their body trembling beside him, and even when the first “scare” appears he does not look up or make a sound, as all he can think of is how fake it looks, but they scream and immediately latch on to him tightly and it almost makes him laugh, but he does not and instead rubs their shoulder to try and calm them, though it obviously does not work too well. They whimper almost pathetically as the ride continues, and they scream and latch on even tighter to him at least three more times before the ride comes to an end.

Once away from the ride, he turns to them and asks, doing his best to sound as innocent as he can: “I thought you said you weren’t scared…”

“Sh-shut u-up…” they choke out amidst their labored breathing, and they almost pout when he can no longer stop himself and laughs. “I-it’s _not_ funny, Sakura-kun!”

“Sorry, I know, I know… Just… that’s the first time I’ve heard you scream like that. I almost thought you were being killed.”

“That’s mean, Sakura-kun! _You_ _’_ _re_ mean! I thought I was about to have a heart attack!”

He cannot help but laugh as they continue to pout helplessly, but he holds himself in and kisses them softly, a quiet apology both for laughing and for making them go through the ghost house with him, promising to make it up to them when the date is over, and they murmur that they will keep him to that and he smiles absently. He likes how being with them feels so natural and, in a way, right, but at the same time he cannot stop comparing them to Him with every similarity he finds and that is what makes him feel terrible despite how much he wishes he could just let it go and be happy again.

There are many more rides to see, but he and they both agree to skip the bumper cars, because both really do not like it all that much, and go in search of different entertainment. It does not take long for them to spot a small food stand that is selling a type of food he has never even heard of, but they claim that it is delicious, especially when it is covered in hot chocolate sauce and he is sold immediately for that as there is no sweet on the planet he likes better than chocolate, and he allows them to guide him to the stand.

It only takes a few moments for them to hold out a paper sack with the long treats literally coated in chocolate sauce and, without delay, he removes one and begins to munch away, though he has to suppress his urge to moan as the delicious flavors of melting chocolate and something belonging entirely to the fried goodness nearly overwhelm his taste buds.

“…That’s good,” he is able to get out between bites, and he ignores their chuckles as they munch on their own while he pulls out three to five more for himself, being careful not to spill the sauce on his clothes as he munches on the sticks.

“Heh. Yes, I can see that. How about you hold it, then, Sakura-kun?”

“…um… b-better not… I uh… um…”

“Heheh. I’ll just get more if I want some, Sakura-kun. Don’t worry.”

How is he supposed to reject that offer _now_?

It only takes him three minutes to finish the entire thing and they have only been able to grab a single handful to munch on, but they do not say anything about it even as he finishes the last one and proceeds to lick the chocolate sauce off of his fingers. There is only one downside to eating so much chocolate and that is that you get extremely thirsty afterwards, so he does not object when they offer to go get something to drink and ask for him to wait on the nearby bench.

He watches them go quietly from where he sits and he wets his lips and swallows his saliva briefly in an attempt to ease his thirst, but that definitely is not something easily done. He briefly checks his clothes just to ensure he has not spilt anything on them, because a chocolate stain is not easy to remove from cotton fiber, as he knows from experience, when a voice he has not been expecting shouts his name and makes him look up in alarm like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

He speaks _her_ brother’s name with a slight hint of apprehension in his voice as the owner of the voice approaches him and beams down at him.

“Yo, dude! The hell ya doin’ here? Thought you weren’t gonna be here today ‘coz you’s was goin’ out with your girl, yo.”

This was exactly what he had feared would happen, but he had been hopeful that, somehow, he would have been able to elude his friends while he was out with them, but it seems that luck is not on his side tonight, and he cannot help but curse his rotten luck.

“…I… wasn’t expecting to be here…” he says, and it is as honest as he can be without telling his friend why he is really there at this specific moment in time and also without giving away that his ‘girlfriend’ existed only in his friends’ heads.

“Whuh…? Wait… did ya get dumped?!”

“No,” he says with a sigh, shaking his head as he thinks that only _her_ brother can jump to that conclusion so rapidly. “I’m just waiting… that’s all.”

“Ne, niisan, why did you–oh! Hello Sakuraba-kun!”

He revises his earlier statement about his luck and concludes that his luck has now completely abandoned him, because he knew without a doubt that if _she_ was there then it can only mean that He is also there and he almost does not want to look over but he does it anyway and he feels his entire body freeze up when he spots Him standing by _her_ side, looking rather surprised though he cannot possibly understand why.

He does not dare to speak, because he fears his voice will give out halfway through the greeting, and so he merely nods quietly with his hand clutching at the hem of his jacket, trying to not appear like he does not want to be there lest he give them the wrong impression, because despite how they have been ignoring him for so long, they are still his friends, his only friends, and he does not want to lose them.

“Oh! Sakuraba-kun!” says his ex-Stalker with a bright smile. “What are you doing here? …oh! Were you with Neko-chan on a date?”

“…yeah…”

“Oooh. But… where is she?” she asks curiously, a little bit unsure. “Did she leave already?”

“…no…” he answers softly as he looks down to his feet again as he remains where he is, and he does not know if he wants them to be here faster and get him out of this situation or if he wants them to stay away so he does not have to explain why the person he is with is not of the gender everyone has been expecting, because he still does not feel like he is ready to inform his friends of that fact. “…Neko-chan just… went to grab a drink…” he adds, and he blames his slightly scratchy voice on all the chocolate sauce he has had, instead of the fact that it was getting more and more difficult to speak by talking in half-truths.

“Oh? Leaving you by yourself? Isn’t that a little cold, Sakuraba-kun?” He asks with a small giggle and he wants to bite his lip to keep from saying anything and he absently wonders why he did not go with them to get the drink.

“…not really…” he says softly as he twines a finger through one of the elastic strings of his jacket and fiddles with it anxiously, wishing that his friends just leave him be and let him be alone for now because he does not want to be with his friends today now that he was here with them.

 _Her_ brother hums a bit, as though in thought, before he gives a small shout of “That’s it!!” and before he can ask anything about what his friend means, he is grabbed by his arm and pulled to his feet, which is so sudden that he believes he yelps in alarm. “Let’s go find yer girl and say what’s what, yo!! Gf or not, ya dun jus’ leave people in the dust, yo!”

As much as he wishes to say that his friend should not be talking about such things, the pain in his arm takes priority as _her_ brother tries to drag him away and he digs his heels into the ground as he attempts to not get dragged off.

“St-stop it, Beat…! Th-that hurts…!” he gasps out as he tries to pry his friend’s hand off, but _her_ brother is too strong for him and is already starting to drag him off.

“Beat, stop that!!” his ex-Stalker cries out as she moves to jump in between.

“Yeah, well someone’s gotta say it ain’t right to just leave someone like that, y–BWAAAAH!?!”

When the pain in his arm disappears when his friend shouts in surprise and pain, he almost stumbles as he is released and he looks up in slight confusion, until he sees just what has happened and his mouth moves before he has time to consider it…

“K-Kuja…?”

They remain standing for a while, keeping _her_ brother’s wrist secured in their own hand, and by how their long nails are digging into his friend’s skin, he can only imagine that they are holding his friend very tightly, and the look on their face is less than pleased.

“Perhaps someone should also inform you that if someone says ‘let go, it hurts’, it is most polite to let the person go before you cause permanent damage such as… shall we say… a broken bone,” they say in a way that could have been called casual if it had not been said with a deathly cold undertone while they tightened their hold on his friend’s hand, making _her_ brother cry out in pain.

“K-Kuja stop it!!” he shouts immediately, taking hold of their other arm to make them look at him. “Please, it’s okay! Just… h-he just tends to act before he thinks. I mean… I…”

They look to him for a few moments, and he almost fears they will rebuke him for trying to defend someone who, in their eyes, had been intent on harming him, but instead, their expression softens and they let go almost immediately which makes his friend back away, clutching his wrist with a hiss.

“I shall take your word for it, then, Sakura-kun…” they say, and he breathes softly in relief before they turn to him fully and ask him: “How is your arm?”

“My arm…? …oh! I-I’m okay… just… just a little startled, that’s all…” he says, briefly rubbing his arm where his friend had grabbed him before. It does not really hurt anymore, but the tingle running through his limb is a little annoying.

“Good,” they say with a small smile that seems almost relieved, before he holds out a can of soda. “Here. I was unsure which to get for you, hence why I took so long. I apologize.”

“Ah… it’s okay…” he murmurs as he takes the can, clicks it open and immediately downs half of the can in one gulp because he really needed that to wash away the chocolate sauce, as delicious as it was.

“Ch… what the hell?!” his friend suddenly roars out and he almost drops his can in alarm. “The hell you think you are, yo?!”

They hum in thought, placing one hand to their chin whilst the other rests on their hip as they seem to consider how to answer, before a smirk passes over their lips and they say with a small shrug of the arm that is not poised on their hip: “Well, I _do_ believe my name is Hanekoma Kuja. Unless you believe a name can be changed in the span of a few hours, naturally.”

His friend splutters indignantly and he tries his best to not smile at how they are able to rile up _her_ brother, though he admits that it really does not take so much to accomplish that, but at the same time, there is a pang in his heart when he sees yet another similarity between Him and them.

But before the thought can be shaken away…

“…what the hell are _you_ doing here, Kuja?”

When His voice calls out, colder than the frigid airs of Winter, he almost jumps in alarm, but they do not even blink and instead only turn to Him, their expression perfectly calm, but he feels as though it is only an act from how rigidly they rest their hand against their hip and how taut their jaw is set. But as His words filter into his mind, he feels a sense of dread running through him for a reason he cannot explain.

“…Nice to see you, too, Yoshiya. I’ve been well, thank you very much. How have _you_ been doing?” they say, and any bystander would have believed it was meant as casual banter, but their eyes are as cold as ice and he cannot shake the growing feeling of dread in his gut.

“…you… you two know each other…?” his ex-Stalker asks in an almost confused tone, but he does not blame her for the question.

He looks like He wants to say something, but they beat Him to it as they smirk and say with a casual wave of their hand: “I suppose you can say that we do… in a way. Oh right… how are Mother and Father doing?”

“Don’t you–” He starts, which covers his soft gasp even as they chuckle casually.

“Ah… that’s right. I _do_ apologize, I _almost_ forgot; I’m no longer allowed to say that,” they say with a small smirk, before their expression turns into something that he can only call hostile, “not since you all _disowned_ me, that is.”

Their words, of course, get their share of shock and surprise, and He looks almost ready to lunge at them like a cat would jump a helpless mouse, and he does not even know what to say, and as much as he wishes he could say something, nothing seems quite right given the situation.

“…What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” He grinds out from between His teeth, and he feels almost as though all warmth has been sucked out of the world and while he hates to admit it, He is beginning to frighten him, as His reactions are making him less and less certain about ever confessing what he feels or about his relationship with them.

“Hmph. Am I not allowed to be here? We had agreed I’d never approach any of you again… I never said I would leave Shibuya altogether.”

He wants to speak, he can tell, but He grinds His teeth together and His eyes appear to be burning, and if it was possible to kill with looks alone, then He would have done so right there. The entire situation has suddenly taken a turn for the worst and he is almost certain that things can only go worse if he is to say anything about His and their relation, and it is why he keeps quiet, because he is just so afraid of a rebuke from either Him or them that his voice abandons him as he prays for this to end quietly.

“Um… sorry, but um… could you um… you know, could you leave? I mean, Sakuraba-kun’s girlfriend should be…” his ex-Stalker begins and he tenses sharply as he looks up to them, hoping that they do not say anything.

They do not, but they do not leave, either, and they seem to be thinking it over, before they sigh and turn to him with an expression on their face that is almost sad, but not quite there. Exasperated, maybe, but he understands what it means and he slowly shakes his head.

“…no…”

“They will learn one way or another, Sakura-kun… I fear that it is better if you come clean with them now, rather than have them find out the hard way.”

He knows that… _of course_ he knows… but that does not mean he wants it to be _now_ , either…

But… what choice did he have…?

“…Misaki-chan…” he starts slowly, and his ex-Stalker turns to him in question. “I… don’t have a girlfriend…”

“What?! But you said that–”

“I _never_ said I had a girlfriend… you all just assumed I _did_ …”

“But… but then who…? You said you were going out with Neko-chan…”

“ _Nyyyaaan_ ,” they mewl with a small, lewd smile and their eyes shut halfway, and when all eyes are on them, they say simply, explaining the thing that even he has had difficulty understanding: “Have you already forgotten? My name is ‘Ha-neko-ma’. If you change the emphasis just slightly, then ‘Neko’, becomes most prominent. Though I suppose that will not be enough to convince you, so…”

Two seconds, one to have his head turned and one to have his head pulled forward, that is all it takes for them to connect their mouth to his own, and he cannot say anything, not only because his mouth is more preoccupied with other things, but also because he knows there are no words that can make this gesture seem any different than what it really is.

He has already anticipated the chorused cries from his ex-Stalker, his friend and also from Him, all in varying degrees, though _she_ is strangely quiet when compared to the others, but as they pull away he merely shuts his eyes and lowers his head so that he will not have to look at his friends. Most of all, he cannot bear to look at Him now, afraid of what type of expression is on His face now and he is almost physically shaking, but their arm around his shoulders manages to suppress it enough so that it is not visible, or so he hopes.

“Sakura-kun?” they ask him softly, as they squeeze his hand and he nods once, minisculely, only enough for them to pick up, and he takes a long breath before he speaks.

“I… am dating Kuja.”

Silence follows, and he is so afraid, so afraid of what his friends will say, and he does not dare to look up and he squeezes their hand so tightly that he fears in the back of his mind that he may break some of their fingers, but they squeeze right back, quietly reassuring that he is not alone. He has difficulty to breathe slowly, because his madly beating heart needs much more oxygen than what his slow breathing is providing it, but he holds on, praying for someone, _anyone_ , to just _say_ something and to get it over with…

“Ooooh… well, I guess it’s a little late, but… congratulations, Sakuraba-kun!”

He blinks, confused, and looks up to _her_ , as it was _she_ who had just spoken, and _she_ is smiling brightly at him with _her_ hands behind _her_ back, despite how _her_ brother is gawking at her with one of his infamous shouts.

“BWAAAAH?! The hell, Rhyme?! Whatchu sayin’ tha for so suddenly, yo?!”

“Well, why not?” _she_ asks, tilting _her_ head to _her_ brother. “I don’t see the problem. If they like each other, shouldn’t they be allowed to be together?”

“Well… yeah, but…”

“Urgh! Enough already, Beat!” exclaims his ex-Stalker just before she marches toward him and, without warning, hugs him tightly, which makes him gasp softly in his surprise but before he can ask she is already speaking again: “I’m so happy for you, Sakuraba-kun!” before she steps back and smiles, then plants a small ‘kiss’ on his nose with that silly black stuffed piggy or whatever it is she always carries as she makes a kissing sound and then smiles. “Don’t worry ‘bout that big lug, kay? I got your back, alright?”

“Bwaaah?! The hell, Misaki?! I didn’t mean it like _that!_ Dude, course I got his back, too, yo! I was jus’… yanno… didn’t expect that, ‘s all.”

While he does not understand from where all this comes from since he had always been certain he would be cast out if he were to speak a word of his true feelings he is not saying the surprise is an unpleasant one and he feels like he wants to smile in relief and his heart has calmed itself considerably and that in itself is like a weight off of his shoulders. But he cannot bring himself to smile even as _she_ and his ex-Stalker turn to them and start to ask them twenty questions all at once because just as he wants to his mind comes to a sudden realization that had him look over and this time his heart almost ceases to beat entirely when he sees the look on His face…

Even without ever having seen the expression before on His face he already knows that He is displeased, though he supposes maybe angry is a better word, or, an even better word, positively livid and it frightens him, because this is exactly what he has always been afraid of and his hand clutches theirs in a feeble attempt to calm himself down and they seem to catch on immediately and they squeeze back as well after firmly linking their fingers with his. As they answer all the questions that are asked without a hitch, though, they never release his hand, offering him the support he seeks without being asked.

“Ah, if I may be so blunt, ladies,” they say after answering yet another question, “I _do_ believe that Yoshiya-kun has something to discuss with me, which, I do believe, he rather not say with you here. So…” Rather than finish what they were about to say, they turn to him and say softly, “Sakura-kun, why don’t you spend some time with your friends, hm? I promise you I will be right back, okay?”

He does not like where this is going, does not like it _at all_ , but he cannot say anything in return because he is just _that_ afraid of Him and what He might say if he even says one thing wrong, and so he is only just able to nod, and they lightly squeeze his hand one more time, before they let him go and, after a quick, brief kiss to his temple, they walk away from the group, and He seems to bristle angrily, but finally He shoves His hands into His pockets and stalks after them and he cannot help but be afraid. Something about His behavior is just wrong and he while he wants to believe that they will be fine, the knot of worry and fear in his stomach will not abate and he has to suppress the urge to bite his nails.

He is certain that something about this whole situation is not right, and because of his worries, he is unable to focus on what his friends are talking about, and all he really wants is to run after them and Him to make sure that nothing bad happens, but he cannot just leave his friends like that because he is sure they have much to ask him now that his secret yet not so secret relationship has been exposed for what it really is.

“…Sakuraba-kun,” _she_ says suddenly and he turns in surprise, worried that _she_ may have been speaking to him before and he has not heard a word of what _she_ was saying, but _she_ merely smiles and _she_ says: “If you’re really so worried, go.”

He blinks, confused, surprised but above all unsure, but as he looks to his friends, they smile back to him and give him a firm nod which he believes to mean that they agree with _her_ , but when _her_ brother spins him around and pushes him while telling him to get moving, he finds himself running. He wants to shout back something to his friends but his worry has only grown and thus he only runs as fast as he can to catch up to Him and them and he hopes that nothing has happened and that all will be fine, but he knows that asking for a miracle will not help.

“Leave him alone?” calls their voice suddenly and he pauses in alarm when he hears them laugh quietly. “I fear, brother dear, that your head may be made of solid bone. What was achieved by him being on his own? Surely you have seen how much he has grown. Did you really think it was because he was by himself, when you and your friends banished him to the top shelf?”

Though he wants to smile at how they are speaking in rhyme, yet again, he cannot help but worry about the words that were spoken. He could hear from their voice that they were not overly pleased yet they were acting like there was nothing wrong whatsoever.

“Shut _up!!_ ” He says then, and he can hear the anger in His voice but he cannot understand why. “He doesn’t need you! You _or_ your sick desires!!”

“Does he not now?” asked they slowly. “And you know this exactly how? Do you really know him so well, that his thoughts and dreams you can spell? I think not, for if that were the case, you would have looked him in the face rather than let him rot.”

“Would you _stop_ that dumb rhyming already?! It’s annoying!! And what are you getting at anyway!?”

“… _sigh_ … You really are dense. Do you honestly not see? Because of your own offense, you have made him come to me. The ‘fault’ in this matter lies solely with you, because of a single mistake you cannot undo.”

When he hears those words he freezes for a moment as he comes to the realization that they know now whom it is he has been in love with for so long, but maybe it really was not so difficult to realize if He and they really were related in one way or the other, because there surely could not be so many with silvery colored hair like He and them. Of course they would have realized by now, and if not before then, then at least when He and his friends had appeared today.

“…! Wh-what are you…?!”

“Did you already forget? There was a time when you and he should have met, but that never came to be,” they say then, and he bites his lip because he wants to speak but he finds that he cannot. “And so he called for me.”

“Sh-shut up!! That wasn’t even my fault! Rhyme-chan was in an accident and--”

“And you chose to not call Sakura-kun, _why?_ ” they ask, and he winces when he realizes their tone becomes what he can only call hostile, but he is not certain if He knows this. “You promised him something that day, Joshua. You promised him something and you failed to keep it, _AND_ you failed to inform him _why_ you couldn’t show! In fact, this fact makes me quite sure you _forgot_ about him!!”

“…!! No!! I’d never forget him! I went there but we just missed each other!”

“You went? Hmph. Don’t make me laugh… If you went, you would not have missed each other. Sakura-kun and I were there until well past five in the morning. I do believe it would be rather hard to miss either of us, would you not agree?”

“Y-you…! Guh!! Okay, _whatever!_ I’m not even going to discuss this with _you!_ None of this gives you _any_ right to-to… to seduce him! Sakuraba-kun isn’t--”

“Oh I beg to disagree…” they interrupt and he realizes then that this has to stop and it has to stop now and so he leaps forward just as they open their mouth again, “for you see–”

“Kuja!!” he shouts out and they immediately stop to whirl around, with His and their faces sharing a similar look of surprise.

“Sakura-kun? Why are you…?” they start slowly, but they stop short for some reason.

“Please… that’s enough already…” he gets out, and he almost does not recognize his voice, because it sounds so strange, even to himself. “Just… just _stop_ already… this… this is…”

Enough is enough he wants to say, he wants to say that he does not want Him to know that which they have already figured without needing to be told, he wants to say that it is a secret he is prepared to drag with him into his own grave if need be because he does not want to endanger His happiness in any way, but the words never make it out. He can only choke and wheeze as tears pool from his eyes when he understands that his greatest fear is a reality; the fact that He does not approve of his choice in life.

They are immediately by his side before He can say anything and they are kissing away the tears while gently shushing him and holding him close, murmuring soft words of apology as well as pleas for him to stop crying, something that is easier said than done.

Once he is able to stop crying somewhat, they move closer and whisper words to him that make his cheeks flare red, and he turns away quickly while he mumbles, more to himself than anyone: “Pervert…” but only a spit second after he does he remembers about His presence as well as the fact that He can read lips.

But the realization comes a split second too late and before he can react or correct himself, He is suddenly right there and shoves them aside with enough force that it would have made an ordinary man stumble and fall. They only stumble, though, but they are still caught by surprise at the move.

But no one can possibly be as surprised as he is when He says in a cold voice: “I swear, Kuja… you had better stay away from Sakuraba or I _will_ kill you!!” only a moment before He reaches out, grabs him by his wrist and then runs off while pulling him along with Him.

He is surprised… stunned even… but above all else…

He is confused…

Because he knows now, that He does not approve of his lifestyle, as he had already feared long before then, and yet, now that He knew, had even seen it to be true, He had grabbed him by his wrist and dragged him off just like He had done when they were still nothing more but toddlers and His mother would not give Him His way. He would grab his hand, and would start to walk, sometimes run, away, without speaking or any form of explanation, even when they had stopped, oftentimes so far away from home that they would have to be brought home by other people.

The situation is so strange, so utterly confusing, that he cannot speak up and can only allow himself to be dragged off by Him, because it is so nostalgic that he feels almost like a child again. Every now and again, he would ask Him: “Where are we going?” and the answer would always be “Away from here…”

Deep down in his heart, the small part of him that still loves Him does not want this fragment of nostalgia to end…

But…

…but…

…he cannot do it…

_Enough_ _…_ _enough is enough_ _…_

And so, he stops, and He stumbles when he does, likely in surprise at the sudden halt, before He turns to him in question.

“Why did you stop, Sakuraba?”

“…” Instead of answering His question, he asks his own question, softly, similar, yet different from the question he would have asked Him as a child. “…where are you taking me?”

No response comes from Him, or at least not right away, except for His grip on his wrist tightening just slightly, but finally He looks away, as though the question was somehow weird. It takes a long time before He responds to the question, but when He does, it is not the answer that had been given to him years ago.

“Away from _him_. Isn’t it obvious?”

The answer leaves him confused, and he does not know how to respond at first, before he realizes that only one kind of response is possible in the current situation, and though he dearly wishes from the bottom of his heart to not let it be so, he has made the decision to do so already a while ago.

He reaches out and pries His hand loose to release his hand again, but he does not give Him the time to reply as he tells Him without looking up: “I have to go back.”

But when he turns to go back like he has just said, He grabs his hand once again and it makes him stop, though not stumble, as He says: “Wait! Why do you have to go back?!”

“…I already said why, didn’t I?” he says slowly, not looking back to Him for fear that he will give in like he’s done so many times in the past. “I’m--”

“Why?! You don’t even know--”

“…why does it matter?” he asks as he tugs his hand loose again. “It’s my life, and it’s my choice. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Of course it has something to do with me, you idiot!” says He suddenly, and what He says next makes him tense. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m _worried_ about you, Sakuraba!”

“……”

“Sakuraba, I don’t know what it is he’s got over you, but you don’t have to do this!”

“…!” The implication of those words does not escape him, and, he cannot explain why, it causes his heart to hammer against his ribcage, brimming with an emotion so alien to him that he almost starts to hyperventilate in his attempt to supply his heart with the high amount of oxygen it is demanding, but he refuses to admit to it. He turns to face Him slowly, and he asks, trying so very hard to keep that alien emotion out of his voice and off of his face: “…what do you mean?”

“I know you, Sakuraba; you’re… you’re not like this! Whatever it is he’s using to get you to do this… you don’t have to do it!”

“…shut up…”

“And he… Kuja doesn’t _care_! The only thing that matters to him is the moment he lives in! The moment he’s had enough he’ll move on to the next!”

“…shut up.”

“So… you don’t have to go back! He’s only–”

And then it snaps; the alien emotion known as “anger” takes him over entirely.

“I said **_SHUT UP!!_** ”

“…!!”

Now that the words have been said, he cannot go back any longer, but he finds soon that he does not even _want_ to go back. He has had enough, more  than enough, of everything, and he cannot keep his troubled thoughts back anymore as he speaks again, his words gradually growing louder until he is almost shouting.

“‘Don’t have to go back’?! ‘Not like this’?! What kind of _bullshit_ is that?! What gives you the right to tell me how I should lead my life?! Just because we’re… ‘friends’ as you like to call it, _doesn_ _’_ _t_ mean you get to decide what the heck I want to do and how I choose to live, nor does it give the right to decide for me who I decide to go out with, whether it’s romantically or not!”

“But I–”

“Shut up!! Let alone how would you even _know_ what I’m like?! You **_never_** once asked me anything about my preferences! Well, guess what! Newsflash; I’ve been ‘like this’ for years!! You just apparently never _cared_ enough to even _ask_ me about it!!”

“That’s not true, I–”

“ _Don_ _’_ _t_ even try to deny that!! If you’d asked me then you would’ve _known!_ You’ve no right to judge me based only on what you never bothered to ask about!”

“I’m not judging you!! But you don’t even love him, do you?!”

That question should have given him pause, it should have made him reconsider his plan of action, but his anger has taken over entirely and is no longer allowing him to think rationally.

“What does that matter?! Isn’t that the whole _point_ of dating someone?! Trying to find out if you’re compatible with each other?! If you know ahead of time if another person is your ‘significant other’ then it’d be better to just get married instantly, wouldn’t it?!”

“But what’s the point if you don’t love or at least _like_ someone?! Why didn’t you pick someone closer to you?!”

He had been sure that there is a limit to a person’s anger, and he had been certain that he had already reached that limit of his anger, but no, His words cause his body to physically shake and he grits his teeth before he loses the last bit of control he has left.

“Someone closer… someone like _who?!_ The only ones _close_ to me have been _ignoring_ me for almost half a year!! Hell, maybe even more, I don’t know and rightfully I don’t give a damn! But obviously none of you guys _cared_ enough to even consider me an option!!”

“Sakuraba, you know that that’s–”

“Shut up…! Shut up shut up _shut up **shut up SHUT UP!!!**_ ” he roars out in what can only be called “fury” and it makes Him stumble back in alarm. “Why… why the hell do you keep _calling_ me _that?!_ Why are you always using _that_ name?!”

“I-I… b-because… th-that’s your name… isn’t it?”

“My name… oh, yeah, _sure_! The fact that it’s my name makes it _all_ better doesn’t it?! Of course it does. Don’t **_I_** feel stupid!”

“S-Sakuraba, I–”

“ ** _STOP IT!!_** Stop calling me that!! Why… what’s wrong with my first name that you can’t call me that anymore?!”

“…! Th-that’s not… I mean… we… w-we’re not _kids_ anymore, Sakuraba! We can’t just–”

“ _Why not?!_ What’s wrong with calling _friends_ by their first names?! …oh wait, I get it… _that_ _’_ _s_ why. Because I’m _not_ a friend. That’s it, isn’t it?!

“What?! No!! No no no no! That’s not true! Sakuraba, I just–”

“ ** _DON_** ** _’_** ** _T TOUCH ME!!_** ” he shouts as He tries to hold his arm, but he shoves Him backwards with enough force that He stumbles and falls back on His back and at any other time he would have been apologizing for what he has just done, but his anger is overriding everything, is turning everything around until he is unable to see anything past his own suffering. “You say we’re friends… _bullshit!_ You goddamn stopped calling me by my first name, you stopped talking to me, _hell_ , you even stopped _paying attention_ to me!! What?! Was it so difficult to keep track of your _best friend_?! Or was that spot never reserved for me in the first place?!”

“I-I…”

“It probably wasn’t, was it?! Since the moment **_I_** finally approach **_you_** for once, what do you do!? You leave me in the dust to fend for myself!!” He bites his lip as he pauses in an attempt to get his breath back, as his heart pounds hard enough that he can feel it in his throat, and it is becoming difficult now to keep shouting, but he does it anyway. “I trusted you… I fuckin’ trusted you, _you son of a bitch!!!_ I goddamn well waited for you for **_five hours_** only to hear through Biito that you were with her the entire damn time!!”

He tenses sharply and He gulps down whatever it is that is blocking His throat. “Y… you’re still angry about that…?”

“‘Angry’?” he repeats coldly, and for a moment, it is like time has frozen. He has never been angry with that incident before, just horribly, horribly disappointed, and he had felt like he had been betrayed and left to die in a battlefield where he knew no one and could not rely on anyone, but now… now… “I’m not _angry_ , dumbass! _I_ _’_ _m fuckin_ _’_ _**furious!!**_ Why _wouldn_ _’_ _t_ I be?!?! You left me there for **_five hours_** without contacting me _at all!!_ Did you ever stop to think what that would _do_ to me?! Or does the world revolve around only you?!?!”

“I-I never said– _OOF!!_ ”

By the time he is fully aware again, his body already moved on its own and had Him pinned to the ground by his throat, threatening to crush His windpipe at any moment but he cannot move, because his anger continues to control his every move as well as his voice.

“ _I hate you!! I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you **I hate you I**_ ** _…_** ** _I FUCKIN_** ** _’_** ** _HATE YOU, YOU BASTARD!!_** ”

He does not know what kind of face he is making, but he supposes it is far from a pleasant one, because He is looking up at him with wide eyes that he knows can only mean that He is absolutely terrified as He tries to lift His hands, but He appears too afraid to touch him for fear that he will push his whole weight down and kill Him, and he finds that, deep down, he is equally terrified of himself. This is not like him, he knows this, but he cannot stop, because he has always locked away his emotions, always locked himself out and made himself appear like he did not care and that nothing bothered him, but now that his anger has gotten free reign, he can no longer hold himself in check and he fears that he will actually kill Him like this.

“…S… Sa…” He starts slowly, but He bites his lip, stopping Himself and then speaks again, speaks the words he has never believed he would ever hear come from Him. “Ne… Neku, you’re… you’re scaring me… pl-please stop… please, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t mean… I… I’m sorry…”

The words are enough to give him pause, though he refuses to remove his hands from where they are placed, ready to push down at the slightest provocation, but he finds his anger dissipating as his heart pounds so hard that he fears it will crack a rib or maybe even compress his lung, and it is becoming so very difficult to breathe now. He wants the pain to end, wants his torment to end and wants the control over his own life back, and he is well aware that the only way to permanently fix this problem is to end His life… that is the only _sure_ way…

But…

…but…

_…_ _he cannot do it_ _…_

Because in his mind’s eye, he can still see His smiling face of the time when He first approached him, can still see His teasing expression as He tries to coax any sort of response from him, can still see the small worried frown that causes His forehead to wrinkle, can still see that sincerity that had eventually captured his heart and stole it away. He could not forget that, and this makes it impossible for him to want Him dead, no matter how much anger he feels for Him.

“…I…hate…you…” he breathes out, and he is unaware of the burning of his own eyes, and he does not care that salty drops of water fall down with every blink of his eyes. “…I hate you… I hate how you always look down on me… I hate how you never pay attention to me… I hate how you ignore me unless I talk first… I hate how you always act like such an insufferable prick just to be annoying… I hate how you always mess with my head… I hate how you’re never on time and always make me wait… I hate how you never consider what I think…  I hate how you never treat me seriously… I hate how you think you know me when you know _nothing_ about me…” He chokes on his breath, but he does not care anymore as red hot tears flow down his cheeks to land on His face, because it really no longer matters now…

“Neku…”

_…_ _just once_ _…_ _just once_ _…_

He does not understand where the words come from, but the longer they stay floating in his head, the more he realizes that unless he gives in to his urge he will never be able to find peace, because, as painful as he knows the truth will likely be, he has to know for sure… he _has to_ …

“…but the thing I hate the most…” he says softly as he shifts his hands to place them flat on the ground beside His head, and he can see Him looking to them and then looking back up, but the look on His face is still that of a terrified deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“N-Neku…? Wh-what are you…?”

“…the thing I hate the most…” he mumbles softly, so softly that his words are barely audible, “…is that… despite all that… I just _can_ _’_ _t_ stop myself from loving you…”

And then he moves in and covers His mouth with his own before He can say anything in response, and he feels Him freeze up, but he does not move back, because he knows that this will be the only chance he will ever have, the only time he will be able to do this, the only time that he will be able to be one with the person he loved…

And so he sets down the last card of his life’s house of cards and he can only sit back to watch and wait to see if it can survive…


	3. Stage Gamma - The Collapse

A pair of startled purple eyes look up to him as he moves back and he holds his breath as he waits for His response to what he has just done, but he already knows fully well that, whatever kind of response it is, it will never be the response his heart is begging for. And yet, knowing this, he remains where he is, feeling just a tad hopeful when there is no immediate response, but that small ray of hope is soon extinguished as He shuts His eyes and snaps His hands up to push him away without looking and he merely allows it to happen and allows himself to be thrown back and away to land harshly on his back with such force that he is sure there will be bruises later.

He already knew it was coming long before it happened… but he is still not prepared for the lance of red hot pain that rips through his heart and renders his entire body motionless as a result. All he can do is stare up through his blurred vision to the dark skies above, and wish for this all to end. His back hurts, aches and burns, but it is nothing compared to the pain that spreads though his entire frame from where his heart rests… although it almost feels like there is nothing left of his heart at this point.

“…what… the _hell_ was that about?!” he hears Him say, and he can already tell that He is displeased, and very much so, and it only makes his heart throb all the more in pain. “You… wh-why did you just…?!”

“…I told you… didn’t I…?” he says slowly, without moving from where he lays upon the cold stone, because he feels like there is no more point in moving anything. “I hate you… I hate… _everything_ about you… and yet I… can’t bring myself… to stop loving you…”

“Y-you…! Wh-why… this… this isn’t funny, Neku! You–”

“…I’m… not trying to be…”

When he blinks once, a tear rolls down from his eye to roll down into his hair, and he wants to wipe it away, but his hands will not move from where they lay, as all of his emotional pain has rendered his body almost entirely motionless, and even breathing has become, quite possibly, the most painful action he has ever had to do. He wants to cry, cry so hard and so long until all his tears have dried and the pain has gone away, but he fears that neither his tears nor the pain will ever end once he starts.

When He moves again, he does not hear what He does or how, and in all honesty he can no longer consider the different options because, like everything else, it no longer matters to him, and he does not even react when He is right over him, grabs him by the collar of his shirt and then drags him up to his feet again. It is all that is keeping him upright, but even before it happens, he already knows what is coming and so he shuts his eyes and keeps his entire body relaxed, so that when His fist connects with his jaw, the damage would be minimized, though, really, he does not even feel the hit as it snaps his head to the side, nor does he feel the second collision with the ground. His back aches, he feels a slight burn in his jaw, but he does not feel pain from either, despite how he knows that they both happened and how they _should_ hurt.

“You… you _love_ me?! Bullshit!!” He shouts out, and he keeps his eyes shut now, because he does not want to know what kind of expression He has at that time, since he knows he will crack and then break down. “You say that and yet you’re happily in a relationship with someone else!! So… what?! You thought I wasn’t worth your time anymore?! You say I don’t think about you… but did you ever stop to think about _me?!_ Did you ever stop to think what _I_ would say?! Or was the whole thing a joke to begin with?! Just to see how I would react! Was that it?!”

No, it is not a joke, he wants to say, and he _has_ thought about what He would say about the whole situation, has thought about it so many times that he had memorized every possible outcome that, while based on nothing but his own fears and thoughts, are hauntingly accurate to how things have turned out now.

He wants to say that to Him… but…

He cannot speak…

His mouth will not move…

His voice no longer works…

He cannot even lift his eyelids again, even though the salty water collected under them is stinging his eyes so painfully and they are screaming at him to get it out. As much as he wants to speak, he has no suitable response for Him, because nothing he can say will likely be able to appease Him, and in the back of his mind he wishes he could summon up his anger again, so that at least he can speak again, but he has used it all up already, leaving him with an emptiness that makes him feel like he is not even there physically. It is like he is merely a bystander, watching a tragic scene unfold of which he already knows the outcome. He wishes he could do something, _anything_ , but nothing will work anymore. He cannot even twitch a finger and he finds himself wondering… _wishing_ … did his heart stop?

Did he… die?

But no… he can feel his heart as it continues to hammer against his ribs, feels the agony that rips through him from there as the tears continue to flow endlessly, and he wants to cry, wants to scream for someone, _anyone_ , to make the pain stop… and a dark, haunting, all too familiar thought passes through his mind…

_…I want to die…_

The thought remains in both the background and the foreground of his mind, and he does not have the strength to push it away any longer, especially as He is right there and once more pulls him up to his feet by the collar of his shirt.

“Goddammit, Neku!! Will you _say_ something already?!”

If only it was so simple, but He clearly does not understand the level of pain that he is currently going through that has rendered his entire body motionless, and perhaps He does not even notice the tears as they continue to flow from his shut eyes, but a small section of his heart prays that He does and that He will stop this torture here before He rips him apart and nothing remains to patch together, though maybe he has already long since passed that point. Surely, surely his heart had been reduced to little more than dust already, despite how he could still feel it pounding so painfully within his chest, and his nerves had gone numb entirely by then, because he cannot even feel his own tears, though maybe they have already stopped, but no, he is sure that they still flow, because they have no reason to stop…

“Dammit, Neku, you little…!”

The words sound almost dulled out, but he knows that a second hit is coming as He releases his shirt with one hand, and so he only waits for the pain that he knows he will likely not feel…

…but nothing happens…

“That’s enough, Yoshiya.”

When he hears those words, he knows immediately who is there, and he wants to open his eyes to look, but it is just so _hard_ and his eyelids are just so heavy… he simply does not have the strength left that is needed to lift them and look to them.

“…! Kuja?! What are you--”

“The one that should be asking that is I,” they say in a voice that is so cold that he is sure that something somewhere has just frozen up, and then his support drops and he is sure that if they had not caught him just as it fell away, he would have fallen down to hit the ground again. “You say you are friends… and yet you would strike him without hesitation? If that is how you treat your friends… how is it that you treat your enemies?”

“Th-this has nothing to do with--”

“It has _everything_ to do with me, Yoshiya. You already know that Sakura-kun and I are dating, so did you truly think that I would just stand by and watch you hurt him?”

“Y-you…!”

“I am through discussing this with you,” they say then, and he is briefly aware of them bending down and placing one arm under his knees before they stand again, holding him up in their arms as though he were a woman, as though he weighed absolutely nothing to them, but he could not bring himself to care about this position, regardless how embarrassing it would likely look.

He simply did not care anymore…

“Where are you going?!”

“That is none of your concern. Sayonara, Kiryuu.”

They are walking then, he can feel it as his body is jostled lightly in their arms, and the sound of He and them talking ceases almost immediately, but he does not care about any of that, as it just holds no more meaning to him in the same way that nothing had meaning any longer.

_Numb…_

That is all he feels now; numb, he cannot feel his own pain anymore, because his brain has likely shut off his nerves in order to suppress the intense pain that, just a few scant moments ago, had threatened to tear him apart starting from the place where his heart was located, or used to be, he was sure now, because, despite how he heard it pounding inside his chest as the sound reverberated through his ears, he could not “feel” it doing so.

And still he hears His cold words echoing through his skull, further spreading out the numbness they created until he is certain that this numbing feeling will spread to his lungs and render him unable to breathe, but he finds that a dark, desperate part of him that resides in the very back of his mind is begging for this to happen, wants his breathing to stop and his heart to stop beating, all to stop those horrible horrible recollections of His voice uttering the words that caused this pain in the first place.

Make it end, he heard his own thoughts whispering to him, make the pain stop, make it go away and never return, and he wants to do exactly that, but he has no idea how he possibly can.

“Sakura-kun… look at me… please, dear… _look_ at me…”

The words sound faint, but he knows right away who is speaking, knows right away who is calling him and begging him to open his eyes and to look at them, but his eyes refuse to obey him and the lids remain firmly shut over his eyes, leaving him to hang in the darkness that he feels perfectly represents what is going through him at that time. Even when he is lightly jostled by them, he is unable to lift his eyelids even slightly, but he finds that he really does not want to open them anyway.

“Sakura-kun… please… please just open your eyes and look at me… _please_ …”

It is so difficult to hear anything, and even hearing their words appears to require much more effort than it really should, and he just wishes that everything would end right that instant if only to save him any more pain, because he cannot take any more of this…

As he thinks once again about how he just wants his life to come to an end and how painfully difficult it is for him to just breathe, there is a familiar touch upon his lips, and it makes his mind pause its dark and dreary thoughts to try and focus themselves on what is happening and to try to remember what this feeling that feels oh so familiar is again. Finally, he is able to place it and he remembers this feeling as their lips connecting with his own in a kiss, but something about the touch seems different from how he remembers it last, because he remembers their touch as soft and gentle or hot and passionate, either one, but their touch is somehow different now and he does not understand why.

But then there is another touch on his cheek and his skin twitches when it does because it is so hot despite it being so small, and this touch he does not recognize in the slightest and yet deep down he knows that he should know it, yet the meaning eludes him. Despite how it is so difficult to do so, he tries to make his eyelids work again, to lift them and to see what is happening, and why that last unknown yet familiar touch now moves down his cheek and down to his neck.

When finally he is able to open his eyes again, they are still kissing him, and he realizes that they are holding on to him tightly, one of their hands gripping his shoulder and the other hand holding his head turned up to face them, and he is a little surprised that he has not even noticed them doing so. He can only blink slowly, though with every blink he seems to slowly regain the power he needs to move again, despite how he really does not wish for it, but as his vision clears he notices what was the cause of that last touch upon his face, and when he does, he can only stare until they pull back to look at him.

When they see that his eyes have opened again, they breathe out with a smile that seems to tremble almost, and they whisper softly, as though it was meant to be more to themselves rather than him: “Oh thank goodness… I thought you… I-I was afraid you had…” but they do not finish and instead pull him up flush against them, releasing what he can only call a relieved sigh as they murmur: “I was so scared… _please_ … don’t ever do that to me again…”

“…Ku…ja…” he is able to get out, but only barely, and he is by some sort of miracle able to finally move his arms so that he can place his hands on their shoulders to lightly push them back just slightly because he needs to be absolutely sure that he just saw what he thought he saw on their face barely a moment ago. “Ku… a-are you… crying…?”

They blink once, and when they do, drops of pure crystalline liquid flow down along their cheeks and he now comes to realize that one of them had just hit him on his cheek, and they do not even bother to wipe those tears away from their eyes as they speak again: “Of _course_ I am! Why would I not?! You were… I thought you…” But their words never come out properly and instead they pull him closer again with a small whimper. “It was like you were dead…” they finally admit, and he feels something like surprise wash over him, but he does not speak and instead allows them to cling to him like how a child clings to their favorite teddy. “I was… scared… I was honestly _terrified_ that I might lose you… _please_ … don’t _ever_ do that again… please…”

He finds it difficult to understand why they are crying, because this is the first time that he has ever seen them shed a tear outside of his work, where he is able to summon up tears but even then he can only shed two or three tears, and certainly no more than that, and the fact that they are able to summon up tears should have given him pause, should have given him every right to doubt and hesitate about the sincerity behind their words, but he did not. He feels their body tremble against his own, feels the tears as they fall down upon his shoulder, where he fears they will burn away at his skin because of the heat, and he knows that such things cannot be imitated as simply as a few tears shed upon a stage, and he knows that they honestly care about him, and that it hurts them to see him in so much pain, and as this piece of knowledge hits home, he finds himself feeling worse as the seconds tick by and he is able to lift his arms and hold on to them tightly.

“I’m… sorry…” he is able to get out with a voice that does not even sound like his voice in the slightest, but it does not matter, he determines quickly, as the reason for his pain resurfaced in his mind, making him want to cry as badly as them, but he holds himself back. “I just… it’s just… I-I…” He has to stop and breathe for a few long moments before he whispers in a voice than can only be called broken: “I was… rejected… I knew… I _knew_ I’d be… and yet I… I…”

They do not speak, but they run a hand through his hair and he feels himself relaxing just a little as he clings to them, shutting his eyes shut to stop his own tears from flowing.

“I’m… such an idiot…”

“Saku… …Neku-kun…” When they say his name like that he blinks in surprise, but they do not allow him to look up to them and instead hold him tightly in their arms. “No one is calling you an idiot for clinging onto hope… Not I, not Sanae, and not Kurasa, either,” they say softly and they run one hand through his hair while the other rubs his back in a way that can only be called soothing. “To hold onto your hope for so long, even when you are almost entirely certain that your feelings will never be returned, to be able to do so… I can only call you brave, truly.” They pause then for a long moment, as though they are debating on what needs to be said, before they speak to him again, never once releasing him from the light but firm hold they have on him. “I wish I could tell you that I know what it feels like to lose a loved one, but I would be lying if I did, and I do not wish to cheer you up with such cheap lies… but I do know this; you need to let go. I know that you do not _want_ to let go… but you _have_ to, dear. You _have_ to…”

“…I know…” he says those words so quietly that he almost wonders if he had even spoken at all or if he had just imagined himself doing so, as he tightens his grip on their clothes. “…I know… but… I don’t… I don’t think… _hic_ … I don’t think I can… I… I… _hic_ …”

“Ssshh… I know, dear, I know…”

Their fingers are so soft and so gentle as they stroke through his hair, and he wishes quietly for this to never end, because he knows that once this comes to an end he will be forced to return to life once again and he is uncertain if he will ever be able to face anything in his life ever again, but he knows that he will likely not have a choice because he knows now better than anyone that life is cruel like that…

“Neku-kun… I have a confession to make…” they whisper after a long, long moment of silence and he blinks once as he tries to look at them, but they hold him back, at least for a moment as they seem to be trying to collect their wits, before they gently pull him back to look him in the eye, but he can see a hint of worry and anxiety that is clearly visible in their eyes, even to someone who is not an expert in dealing with emotions of others like he is. “Neku-kun… I think… I may just be in love with you.”

The words are sudden, but they are honest and sincere, laden with their uncertainty in regard to their own emotions, so while the meaning of the words is just as much of a surprise to him as the person who told him the words, it is only truly the timing of it that throws him slightly off guard and in the back of his mind he is wondering why he is not any more surprised at those words than he is, because he is sure that he should be feeling a lot more of it than he currently is, and yet he cannot bring himself to be. He wonders to himself if, maybe, His rejection has broken him more than he had initially thought to be possible, but he quickly dismisses the notion not only because of how ridiculous it sounds, but also because he can feel the beginning of a new wave of pain rising up from his chest, which urges him to shove those treacherous feelings aside quickly before they can numb his senses again.

“I… I apologize if I have startled you… and… after what you have been through… I… I understand if you believe… that I will be unable to provide what you wish to receive… but I--”

He quickly decides that, as fun as it is to listen to them rhyme in a panicked state, he does not want them to misunderstand his silence as outright rejection, but he does not want them to think that he has completely accepted the confession, and so he has decided to take the middle road to prove to them both that he does not reject them and also that he is still willing to continue being with them by moving in and wrapping his arms around them in a hug, though he is still considerably weaker than he ever remembers being. His embrace effectively shuts them up and he can feel them tense, but it only lasts for a moment and they soon return the gesture and he and they then lapse into a long silence that does not feel forced or painful and is more thoughtful than anything, and that is fine with him, because he needs that time to think…

Because he wants the pain to end, and yet he _still_ cannot bring himself to completely write off his feelings for Him as much as he wants to, but he knows that he **has** to at this point, because he now knows without a shadow of doubt that He will never return his feelings, no matter how long he waits for Him.

“…th…thank you…” he is able to get out amidst his rasping breaths and his quiet sobs, as he holds on tight and refuses to let them go. “…for… for being there for me… for always… always taking care of me… thank you… for everything…”

“…Anytime, Neku-kun… anytime…”

He can clearly hear his heart pounding now, but as he remains where he is, he begins to wonder if what he hears really is his heart alone because he almost swears that it sounds echoed, which is rather odd, though he does not really question it, though that is mostly because he does not want to question it too much, because thinking is bad, he has come to realize…

He and they remain sitting for a while longer in silence, and while he does not want to move, he knows that it is not possible to stay there and await the end of the world, as tempting as it is to him at this specific time, so he really is not so surprised when they place a kiss along his temple and murmur that it is high time for them to get up again, though it feels much too soon for him, still, and he voices his thoughts with a quiet whine and by securing his arms around them tighter, unwilling to let go. He honestly does not want to return again… because it will only mean more pain in the end, he is certain of this fact…

“Neku-kun, come now… how am I supposed to hand you my gift if you cling to me like a cicada?”

…gift?

He blinks his eyes open, and he briefly wonders how long they had been closed, before he gradually loosens his hold so he can look at them to voice his thoughts, which makes them smile at him in something that he believes is amusement but he is not entirely sure about that one.

“Close your eyes.”

When they say that, he is very tempted to pout and say that he has only just opened them again, but before he can start, they add in “please” and he does as he is asked after only a moment, and he is half-expecting another kiss from them, but would a kiss really be something special this far in their relationship? And as he waits with his eyes shut there is a sudden weight that falls upon his chest, but it is not so heavy that it would have one crumble under it, and it was in fact barely noticeable if you did not pay attention to it, though he was slightly distracted by their fingers as they ghost over his neck, but the touch is only there for a few brief moments and then it is gone.

“Open them and look down.”

He obeys their words without question and looks down to his chest where he feels the weight has settled and when he finally sees what they did he is sure that his jaw has just dropped open in a combination of awe and surprise. With shaking fingers he reaches up and touches the black, circular pendant with the silver imprint that is shaped like a tribal-styled skull, and he almost flinches away when his fingers touch it because he had been expecting it to be a silly little daydream. But it does not disappear, and this is what urges him to reach out again and lightly touch it with trembling fingers as he continues to wonder if what he is seeing is real or not.

“Do you like it?”

What a silly question, he thinks to himself, but he has a feeling that they are not really expecting much of a verbal answer anyway, so he does not give one as he continues to finger the item that now rests along the folds of his shirt. His voice fails him when he does try to speak, and so he gives up on it at his third attempt and instead he enfolds the small pendant in his hand and moves forward to kiss them firmly, as he feels it to be the best way to express his feelings at that specific point in time and they only chuckle and hold him close as they return the kiss without a word of complaint. Even when he pulls away after what he is sure is at the very least five minutes, they do not complain and only smile up at him without a word said while their hand rests in his hair and he tries again to speak, but again, the words fail him, and so he merely moves forward to rest his face on their shoulder.

“…th…thank you… thank you so… so much…”

“Anytime, Neku-kun… anytime…”

He holds on tight, still, unwilling to let go, even as his consciousness gradually slips away from him, and while he does not know how much time has passed by the time they gently shake him by his shoulder, he really does not care about it, as they whisper to him that it is time to go home, and he only hums in response to their words while rubbing at his eyes. They lead him to their ride, and ask him curiously if he feels awake enough to ride, and he grumbles something that he does not immediately remember saying, but it is enough to make them chuckle softly in a way that is far too familiar, and a memory of that day returns to him and he wonders…

“…you’re brothers…”

“…so you did notice…” they murmur softly, and they give a soft sigh as they pull out the helmets. “Yes… yes, we are… or… perhaps ‘were’ is the better term to use.” He remains silent as they turn to him and place the helmet on his head and work on the clasp. “Mother and Father… they disowned me when they found me in a rather… awkward position with Kurasa.”

When they say those words, it is as though a heavy block of ice has just been deposited roughly into his stomach, for he instantly believes to know what kind of position they are speaking off and the thought is as surprising as it is alarming, and the words that flow from his mouth are a clear testament of this.

“Wait… you and Kurasa were…?!”

“It was a long time ago…” they admit honestly, looking him straight in the eye when they say it. “It was… mutual interest, really. There was no real, deep meaning to our relationship… but I can speak of this when we arrive, if you still wish me to.”

Did he really want to know, he wonders absently to himself, because the thought of them and their friend together in a way other than friends seems almost like a lie to him, but perhaps it is not as strange as he initially thought it to be, and the longer he spends thinking about it as they drive on, the more he realizes that the close friendship they and their friend share may just be built up around the fact that they were once much closer, but to know for certain he knows that he will have to ask them when this ride is over and they are safely inside with him.

The trip seems to take forever, and he spends most of this time merely thinking about whether or not he truly wishes to know about their past with their friend or not, and while it is tempting for him to simply forget that the subject had ever even been brought up, he knows all too well that if he has no answer to his questions he will begin to second-guess everything. And so, as they pull up their ride in front of his place, he asks them to come up and they seem to know already what he has decided upon, as they do not say anything on the matter and instead follow after him once they have locked and secured their ride.

The trip upstairs to his apartment takes only a little while, but it seems to take endlessly long for him and even longer to walk the short distance from the elevator to his room and then inside, and he cannot understand why it does, but he decides not to question it and instead he sits down on his bed and they join him there shortly afterwards. For a long time, they sit and wait for him to speak, and he tries to collect his wits before he asks the question that he is sure they are already waiting for, and it takes him a good few minutes before he can ask them.

“…Kuja…”

“…yes?”

“…you… Kurasa and you… what did you…?”

They give him a small smile and shut their eyes for a moment, as though they need focus on something, before they speak after opening their eyes again. “Kurasa… he was my… well, he was a classmate of mine long ago. We shared many of our classes, but we never really got along well, at first. He was constantly one to be looking for trouble, something he was very good at… still is, now that I think of it, but at that time, I had always tried to keep him away from me.” They pause briefly to exhale and shake their head as though in resignation before they continue speaking; “Kurasa, on the other hand, seemed intent on getting my attention any way he could due to my tendency of outright ignoring his very presence. One thing led to another, and I rapidly found myself ensnared in his… ‘world’, I suppose you could say, due to a case of curiosity on my part. Mother and Father were, obviously, displeased… and thus they disowned me when I refused to give my newly found world up.”

They sigh softly with their eyes shut, in a way that he is certain can only mean they are reliving the day that they were cast out by their own family, and though he does not know what that is like, he can imagine that it must have been terrible and, most of all, painful.

“That was almost fifteen years ago, now… and despite the fact that I have never seen anyone of my family during those years, it was not difficult for me to recognize Yoshiya…” They smile then, and as they continue, he can almost swear they sound wistful. “He really has not changed at all during those years… he is still as resentful of me as he was when I was cast out…”

He does not speak as they finish talking, as he is feeling very uncertain about what he feels now, because despite how they admit that they had been in a relationship with their friend over fifteen years ago, which likely means that their relation with their friend had been brought to a close for almost just as long, it does not change the fact that they had been with another before him. This is something that does not sit well with him, but he knows that no matter how much he wishes for it, he cannot change the past in any way, and this leaves him with little choice but to accept this fact for what it is.

“Neku-kun…”

He blinks when his name is called and he turns back to them, uncertain when he had looked away in the first place, but he does not have much time to wonder, as they reach out and run a tender hand through his hair, and this immediately puts him at ease somewhat with the entire scenario.

“I apologize for what I have done… but I cannot change it… I--”

“I know…” he whispers softly, and he sighs as he leans forward and allows his head to rest against their chest, and he allows them to wrap their arm around his shoulders silently, as he understands that to allow himself to dwell on a relationship that has long since ended is little more than a waste of time and energy, and it will not change what has already happened. The past cannot be changed, nor is it possible for people to forget entirely, but he knows that in order to surpass the past, he will have no choice but to learn to live with the choices he has made, and the same goes for them as well.

“Neku-kun… are you upset?”

“…no…” he admits quietly with a small shake of his head without moving from where he is leaning against their collarbone. “No… that would make me a hypocrite…”

“…Yes, I suppose you are right…”

He wishes so badly to say something, but he has no idea what it is he wants to say, and so he remains quiet and waits, hoping that they will speak first, and yet they, too, seem to be waiting for him to break the silence first, and this leaves them in a state of silence that neither of them know how to pierce through with words. And as time gradually passes, they eventually scoot back on the bed and tug him along so that they are now both lying sideways on the bed, still facing each other, though his head is still resting on their chest despite the shift in position, and his arms come up to wrap themselves loosely around their back only a moment after they do the same thing, and it is not until he and they have been in that very position for a good few minutes that he realizes that he has completely forgotten to take off his shoes, but he cannot bring himself to care about that now…

It simply does not matter enough…

He does not remember if he simply shut his eyes for a moment or if he actually drifted off to sleep like that, but when he opens his eyes again and he looks up to them, he realizes that they have their eyes lightly shut as well, and their light breathing hints at the fact that they are likely asleep as well, and as this registers in his mind, he moves back just a little so that he can properly look at them, because he has never really looked at them when they were asleep, he realizes. Normally, when they spend the night beside him, they are always the one to wake up first, and as such he has never truly seen them when they are asleep, so he remains silent and watches them as they continue to sleep peacefully.

Yet as he watches, he cannot help but compare once more and his weary mind offers him no resistance to do so, as his mind paints away some of their hair to make it appear shorter and its style a little more curly than how it currently is, and it is not until he has been staring at them like that for almost a minute that he realizes what he has just done and he feels both shocked, disgusted and ashamed that he would continue to think of only Him even now when he knows that his feelings will never be returned. Not only that, but it is also unfair to them that he is unconsciously trying to replace them with Him, especially after the confession they had sprung upon him earlier, even though they had admitted that they were merely assuming that those were their true feelings.

And yet he could not help but wish desperately for something he was well aware would likely never come to pass, but he forces those thoughts away quickly with a firm shake of his head and swiftly moves in to place a kiss upon their lips as they sleep, and they let out a satisfied moan from the back of their throat in response before they open their mouth to return the gesture, even when their body is fast asleep, before their hands reach up to place themselves upon the side of his head to prevent him from leaving, and he is in no position to deny them anything, because he needs this more than ever now, and he cannot help but think on the few times that he instigated anything, but that, too, is quickly pushed away to the very back of his mind, as he intends to do as their guardian has told him only a week before…

_Enjoy the moment_

He reaches up and places a hand to their shoulder, lightly pushing them until they are lying on their back on the bed and he is leaning over them, with his mouth still connected to theirs, as he and they are now breathing solely through their noses to prevent asphyxiation, but when he begins to run his fingertips lightly along their side, they groan wantonly and break away to breathe properly, and he immediately moves in to begin placing soft kisses along their neck that eventually shift into small bites. They whine in response at the attention and their hands shift to his back and cling to him as though he was a life preserver and they were a man drowning upon the open sea, but he does not stop what he is doing and instead he only inches up their shirt gradually and allows his fingers to play along their bare skin, and he is rewarded with another deep moan that makes him want to echo the sound, but he holds it in as he begins to move along their throat, drawing more such sounds from their throat and even their back arches up in response, and it makes him smile for a moment, but he drops it so as to focus solely upon what he is doing.

While he knows very well that what he is doing is morally wrong, he just cannot stop his body from moving on its own, though he does hold himself back from going too far unless they wake up fully, which he believes will not take overly long anyway, and his thoughts are proven to be true when he slips his hands under their shirt and moves his fingers there and the motion causes their eyes to slowly flicker open. He does not stop what he is doing, and only waits to see what they will do or say to make him either stop or continue, and it does not take long as they pull their arms away from his back to reach for their shirt in a sleepy attempt to remove it, but it is not working so well so he moves back slightly and tugs the oh so annoying article of clothing over the top of their head, after which he ducks right back down again and immediately latches on to one of their hardened nubs and this makes them cry out and arch up into him, whimpering his name that is followed with a soft plea for more that he is not about to deny.

Their reactions despite being still a little on the sleepy side tell him that they do not object to the sudden onslaught of attention and that they instead revel in it and that is only confirmed by them begging him to give them more and so he obeys, while at the same time moving back to remove his own shirt, because otherwise it is a little unfair to them. He throws the piece of cloth somewhere to the side to be forgotten for the time being as he moves in again and this time immediately goes for their chest and begins to lick along their sweaty skin to draw a long moan from their mouth, and then they whimper out his name as he begins to suckle on their left breast.

He does not even stop to think about how he is suddenly taking charge of the situation or even why he is doing it, because he fears that if he starts to think of it he may just break down entirely. Thus he forces himself to forget about it and he focuses entirely on what he is doing and pays attention only to their wanton cries as they beg him to keep going on and on, and so he does, sucking and licking and biting all while listening to their breathless pleas as he removes the remainder of their clothes without even being fully aware of it, before his own join them somewhere along the ground, but he finds that he really does not care anymore…

“ _Caaalling, you hear the caaalling…  
Caaalling, someone is caaalling…_ ”

The sound is sudden and tears him away from what he is doing and they groan in what he believes is annoyance at being interrupted just when things were about to get good, and he wants to curse and cry at being interrupted just as much, but he does not because he knows it will do him no good and instead he turns away and begins to lick up the droplets that had begun dripping along their skin, drawing a gasp from their throat before they release another whimper. His phone continues to sing on and on as he moves ever downward and yet he continues to ignore it in favor of continuing what he has begun to do.

“A…aren’t you… g-going to… ge… get that…?” they breathe out slowly, but his only response is a dissatisfied hum before he opens his mouth wide and swallows and then they cry out so loudly he almost fears the neighbors will hear, but the thought does not remain in his head for overly long as he focuses on more important matters, and he absently finds himself humming along with his phone as it starts all over after a brief moment of silence. He is sure it will stop soon, because he knows that people generally try up to three times before giving up, though perhaps the stubborn will keep going until four, but certainly no more…

But it rings at least six times…

Then seven…

Eight…

They groan in clear annoyance at the prolonged noise and then without warning snap their back upward and move to the floor without ever shifting their lower body and they find and pick up his pants after which they need only a moment to find his phone and to fish it out before they flip it open on the last ring and then place the purple object to their ear with a cheery though slightly strained greeting, that has him want to look up, but they place a hand on the back of his head in a way that he realizes means that they will sort it out. But as the thought finishes in his head, a different thought enters his mind and he allows a smirk that goes unseen as he brings up his hand just as they begin to talk again.

“Hm? Why I am here? Should that not be obviouss--!” they say into his phone, and he has to resist the urge to chuckle at how they hiss at the end of their sentence, for which he knows he is responsible. “I am here to vanquish his fear. Are you so obli _vioous!!_ Neku-kun!!” they hiss out to him, but all he does is smirk a little in response to the look and all they can do is pout miserably until the person on the other side of the line catches their attention again. “Oh, nothing serious. We are merely pla _yiiiiing_ a-a game of s-sorts… You need not worry ab _aaaAAAH!!_ Neku-kun!! Don’t do that so sudden _lyyyyy_ oh my _god!_ ”

They are now clutching onto the purple object held to their ear and their entire frame is shaking like a leaf as they gasp feverishly for breath by the time that he finally moves back enough to catch his breath and to wipe his mouth just a little, while they gaze up to him with glazed over eyes that were wordlessly begging him to give them more as a thin trail of saliva came out from the corner of their mouth, and talking appears to be the last thing on their mind as he moves closer.

Maybe it is the fact that he has just had his heart broken by his first love whom also happens to be, or have been at best, his best friend, or maybe it is the fact that they look so much like Him that he has unknowingly begun to act upon the desire of his heart as it lusts and longs for Him, or maybe it is simply the fact that whatever worries he has seem to dissipate when he is like this with them, but whatever reason he might have, he knows that it does not matter to him at all; nothing does anymore.

Even as he moves those last inches forward and they release a cry that almost reverberates through their whole body, and due to their connection to him now, he senses it quite clearly and he cannot help but moan softly at the feeling, but at the same time, he feels oddly disconnected from his physical body, almost… almost…

… _numb_ …

Even as he moves in and covers their mouth with his own, his body remains numb, unfeeling as though all his nerves have been cut clean through, yet he continues to move and they whine and groan wantonly, one of their hands still grasping onto his phone as though it were a lifeline. As he moves back again, he hears a whisper of his name and he is certain that it is them, because that is the only person it can be, and yet their voice almost sounds like His and this makes him groan as a powerful shudder rips through his spine and all the way down to his toes, banishing a piece of the numbness away, yet it fills him with a sense of deep longing that he cannot push aside. It hurts, and he knows it will likely hurt more once it is over, but he does not want to feel this numbness anymore, this feeling that has him feeling as though he is no longer alive and merely a specter haunting his own body, and so he shuts his eyes and lets His voice echo through his head, allows it to fill him with a sense of peace as he continues to move, never speaking a word for fear he may say something he will regret.

His voice drives that horrible numbness away, and he breathes a little easier knowing this, but only a little, yet he chooses not to think on it and he struggles instead only on the moment and nothing else…

_Enjoy the moment…_

The words resound through his head and a groan that he belatedly realizes is his own reaches his ears, and it is soon followed by a cry that he has difficulty placing until he understands it is not only theirs, but his own as well, and this fact hits him hard and with such force that his vision momentarily blurs and he feels his arms buckle beneath his own weight. For a few long, blissful moments in which he does not have to think of anything, he lays himself down until he is laying against their side, their arms wrapped gently around his back with their fingers tracing patterns along his skin, a fact that makes him shiver lightly in response, and he almost slips right back into the darkness again, but they speak softly to him then, like they really do not wish to.

“Does it still hurt?”

He feels himself flinch sharply when the question is asked, as he understands the reason why they are likely asking him that question, but he remains silent because he does not want to answer and thereby admit to his own feelings, as he knows it will only make things more painful. They do not ask again, but they remain in silence and hold him gently but firmly in their arms, running their fingers slowly along his bare back, as though in silent consolation, and he is so grateful for their very presence there, yet he is unable to put those feelings into words, because he fears that words will never do them justice, and he wishes this moment could last forever…

…and yet…

…and yet…

“…yes…”

The word is out of his mouth before he can say to his mind that it is a bad idea to speak lest he break this tranquility he and they had fallen under, and yet his mouth obeyed not his mind but only his heart as its beat pulsed harshly against his chest, hurting both his ribs, lungs, and his very being.

“…I see…”

They do not sound overly shocked, nor do they seem upset over how long he has made them wait for an answer of any kind, be it vocal or physical, and this fact does not surprise him, because he know like no other how patient and caring they truly are, especially to him. His mind is shouting to his mouth to be silent and leave it at that, but his heart’s pleas resound louder than his mind and he speaks slowly, as his vision once more blurs and a by now familiar heat centers in his eyes.

“…he… he tossed me aside… he… struck me… screamed at me… I… I hate him for it… I hate him for making me… making me feel so… so weak… so… pathetic… I hate him… I really do… but I…” His voice breaks then and he chokes, and they place a soft kiss upon his temple to soothe him without speaking a word, and he shuts his eyes and buries his face into their shoulder in response. “Des… despite… _all of that_ … I just… _hic_ … I just can’t make it stop… _sniffle_ … I can’t… I can’t stop… I just _can’t_ …”

They do not seem overly surprised or upset about his confession, as they merely hold him close and rub his back in soothing circles with both their hands without saying a word, and he can only cling to them for support, because heaven knows he wants the pain to end forever. He just wants to be happy and live his life the way he wants to once again… that is all he asks for…

“…I don’t want this anymore…” he whispers to them softly as he fights back the tears that so desperately cling to the lashes of his eyes, shut vast to deny the tears their passage. “Make it stop, Kuja… please… just… make the pain go away…”

“…Neku-kun…” they speak softly, and for a moment, he fears that the answer will be a resolute no, but they merely pull him closer to them and say, their breath like a quiet wind; “You need not even ask… Whatever you wish for… I will do all that is within my power to grant it to you, I promise.”

He can only continue to sob against them, despite his best intentions to stop crying, and slowly slips into a fitful sleep, filled to the brim with horrible nightmares of that night that have him bolting awake in the middle of the night, crying and screaming and kicking and punching until they are able to calm him down and urge him to sleep again, always with the quiet promise that they will be there for him when he awakes. His sleep is restless, for despite his wish to not dream and to simply forget all that has happened, his heart is in so much agony that he finds it to be impossible, even when he tells himself over and over that things are better this way and that he does not need to worry about anything anymore, yet he just cannot let it go…

Even when the morning comes, he feels tired, and he wishes more than anything to stay where he is, securely wrapped up in both the blanket and their arms, warm and safe, and he feels like nothing can harm him there. A foolish thought, he tells himself, but he does not care in the least.

He just does not care anymore…

They are somehow able to get him up from his warm and comfy spot, however, heaven alone knows how they have managed to do so, and he and they spend the day together, almost glued to each other’s side, hands entwined and holding on tightly to provide him that little bit of comfort and reassurance he needs in a weak attempt to get his life back on track. The day passes slowly, but he does not mind, as long as they remain by his side as a quiet reminder that he is not alone and that all will be well again, soon.

And when the day has passed, he is almost afraid to let them go, but they whisper to him that they will see him tomorrow, at school, in what has become their little private spot, and he is finally able to let them go home, even though he wishes they could stay with him another night. But despite his growing feeling of loneliness, he is still glad that he was finally able to give them his present for the celebration of he and them being together for so long, and though it was not nearly as expensive, or portable, as their gift had been, they had loved it and kissed him softly in thanks.

And… he felt… happy…

…and yet…

As time passes slowly, he begins to realize bit by bit that he has become almost dependent on them, and even if he does not speak a word of it, he wonders if maybe it is not obvious to those who see him and them together. He feels almost restrained, though he cannot understand why, or if perhaps they feel it, too, and this in turn makes him fearful of a point in time where they will no longer be by his side, but he shoves it aside as old fears that have been born from his “friends” abandoning him so long ago.

But he just cannot shake it off… this fear that he may someday be abandoned again…

But time does not stop for him or his worries, and before he is truly aware he finds that it has been almost two months since that horrible day that his world had come crashing down on him, and he meets  up with them and their friend again, who had come back only the week before with news that had blown him away yet had him feeling like smiling and congratulating, as a spark of hope came to life in his heart that, maybe, maybe, one of his once impossible dreams was not as impossible after all…

And yet… and yet…

Time continues to pass steadily, on and on without pause, and before he had been even fully aware, the temperature had begun to drop and he finds himself forced to exchange his loose and easy clothes for warm and cozy sweaters and pants and heavy boots with enough grip to keep him up despite all odds and a scarf wrapped securely around his neck and fuzzy mittens on his hands and his headphones replaced by earmuffs, still purple, of course. He hopes for the temperature to drop enough that the water in the sky will freeze so that when it comes down it will be light and cold and oh so pretty so as to paint the world white, because he loves when that happens, and he wishes so fervently that he almost feels like a child again. But his happy thoughts soon shatter to bits as memories of years before rise to the surface of his mind, and he cannot stop his mind from recalling the time he once spent with Him, frolicking like a pair of loons through the snow, and he is sure they have noticed, even though they say nothing and merely stay by his side…

He decides however to not worry about it too much as he decides to go to their house which is in the back of their guardian’s shop and he wonders absently if their friend will be there as well, as their friend has been stopping by on regular occasions now, always to speak with them, but whatever they speak of together, it is dropped whenever he steps into the room.

When he arrives, finally, he greets their guardian, receives a greeting in return and also the notice that they are upstairs and that their friend is there as well and so after thanking their guardian, he walks up the stairs in the back towards their room. When he arrives at the door, he is about to raise his hand to knock, but he stops when he hears something from the crack at which the door had been left.

“Absolutely _not_.”

“Kuj, would you let me _finish_ for once?!”

“No, Kurasa, I don’t think I will. What you’re suggesting I do is… unacceptable!”

“How is what I’m saying unacceptable? All I’m saying is that you two need to sit down and properly talk about your relationship!”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do, Kurasa. Nor does Neku-kun. We’re both old enough to take responsibility for our decisions.”

“Which you’re _not_ doing, Kuja! You’re being childish!”

“Childish?! How am **_I_** childish?!”

“Because you’re throwing a goddamn tantrum because you _know_ I’m right!”

“I am _not_ throwing a tantrum!!”

“Yes you _are_ , Kuja! Now would you shut up and listen to me for once in your damn life?!”

“Whatever for?! You just intend to break us apart because _you_ think we’re not—”

“Hanekoma Kuja, would you SHUT UP and LISTEN to me?!?”

“…!”

“Look… I’m NOT trying to break you two up. Hell, I actually think you two look good together and I’m not just saying that. All I’m trying to say is… well… …you know what, it’ll likely be easier this way; oy! Neku! How long’re you gonna stand by the door like that?!”

He freezes when their friend calls out to him, as though he had known he was there all along but simply had not seen the need to speak about it, and the words make him wish to bolt from there and out of the shop and never look back but his feet refuse to budge an inch, even when he hears them get up in alarm before moving toward the door.  He knows that he should not have staid and eavesdropped on them and their friend, he knows this very well, and yet he had not been able to force himself to step away when he realized the conversation being held was a rather sensitive one, and now it was too late as the door opens and they stand in the doorway to stare at him silently.

“Oy, Kuj; let the kid in instead of having him stand there, will ya?”

Their friend’s words snap them out of staring, and they turn briefly to their friend, then they finally step back and allow him in, but he is not entirely sure if he should at this point. Their friend, however, feels differently and urges him with a wave of the hand to come into the room, and so he feels he has no good reason not to and he slowly walks inside, following them to sit on their bed, close aside one another.

“Okay, you ready to listen _now_ , Kuj?” asks their friend then, but while the words sound almost teasing, their friend’s expression is oddly empty.

They sigh, and he knows that they have now resigned himself to listen to whatever it is that their friend wished to speak to him about, but it is clear that they are tense and worried, yet for once he is unsure of how to proceed, because the little he had just picked made him believe that he, too, is not going to like what is about to be said.

“Fine, Kurasa… I’m clearly not able to stop you…”

“Took you long enough to figure out…” their friend said with a small smirk, but the expression lasted for only a moment before his expression was back to the empty one it had been, and this makes him feel even more anxious than he already did upon entering the room, but he refrains from bolting regardless of his own anxiety; he has been trying so hard to not let his fear take him over, and running would only undo all efforts he had made to do so. “You probably figured as much, Neku, but I was talking to Kuja about your relationship. And… well, about how you two need to seriously sit down and be honest with each other.”

And he understands then; their friend had seen straight through him, had seen the hesitation, had seen the pain, had seen through to his own haunted emotions and realized… realized that despite them speaking those three solely desired words to him whenever they could, he just could not repeat them… he could not because the words would be… empty…

No meaning, just… empty words with no feeling or underlying emotion…

“And just what do you mean by that?” they grumble from beside him, but he cannot bear to look at them, for fear that they will see it, too, as his emotions threaten to consume him whole, dragging him under to drown in his own sorrow. “You keep saying ‘be honest’, yet what does that mean? Simply not lying? Hmph. Sorry, dear, but I fail to see the point.”

“Kuja.”

They fall silent, and he knows that they, too, now realize how serious their friend is being for not responding to the endearment that would have normally resulted in a nasty backlash.

“…There are ways to be dishonest without saying anything.”

“…I… I’m not sure I…”

“Neku.”

He flinches sharply and he slowly lifts his gaze up to face their friend, as he struggles not to hyperventilate as fear begins to boil in his gut, but he can barely hold their friend’s ice blue gaze, Because he knows now perfectly well that the secret he had believed to have kept so well, is not a secret at all. He silently prays, silently begs of their friend to not say what he already knows is coming, because he knows that he cannot lie to him, and it terrifies him more than anything.

“Be honest… where is your head every time you two go out?”

“What are you--”

“Better yet… _who_ is on your mind every time?”

He cannot say it…

He simply cannot… and their friends knows this… he _knows_ …

And because he does not say anything, merely bites his lip and look away so that he does not need to look at their friend, he comes to the horrifying solution that not only does their friend know… so do they now…

“…Ne… Neku-kun…?”

He cannot say it… he tries, and he fails…

Only one phrase makes it past his constricted throat, a single, small phrase that says everything he can never bring himself to say otherwise…

“…I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

It hurts; it really does hurt… it claws at his very being and tries to wrench his heart from his chest as it hammers against his ribs, and no amount of consoling could ease his pain even as they reach over and hug him close, shushing him and claiming it will be alright, because no, no it will never be alright again, because he has just lost everything… _again_ …

He wishes he could have held on, wishes he could have hidden his pain better until he was able to get over it and move on, wishes he could have been a better boyfriend who thought only of his lover for themselves, not another… he wishes so many things, but when all is said and done, no amount of wishing will help him… or them…

The relationship between he and they ends shortly after, but they do keep in touch with him, as does their friend, because as they say, a failed relationship is no reason to cut off ties completely, and he is beyond grateful for their support, as it is the only thing that is keeping him from drowning in the sorrow and depression that has become his life now. When he calls them at midnight, because he simply cannot sleep, they do not chastise him, and talk to him quietly to ease his mind, and when he asks them over because he does not want to be alone, they do not hesitate to do so.

Time ceases to have meaning, and he begins to wander, sometimes all day, even though he should not, because he still has classes, but it simply does not matter to him anymore. He just walks and walks and walks until he has lost all sense of direction and he wonders if anyone even cares that he is not around, for his phone is silent, as it has been for so very long.

As he walks, he recalls a time when he did the same, so many years ago now, uncaring about his education or anything or anyone else, because the world was a dark, cruel place that was out solely to hurt him. And perhaps it is those memories that guide him without him realizing, but when he looks up, he is standing right _there_ , and he freezes in place, recognizing the place as the memories come crashing down upon him like a tidal wave, crushing him beneath their weight and causing his legs to tremble with the effort to keep him upright.

He shuts his eyes against the onslaught of memories, pushes the palms of his hands against his closed eyelids because he does not want to see, but it is like this only makes the memories stronger and clearer and he begins to sob softly.

This was where he first met Him… this was where they met… where they exchanged words for the first time… where they shared so many precious moments… together…

He removes his hands and steps forward, toward the wall that has not changed a bit over the years, untouched, and appearing as new as the day he first saw it and he is almost afraid to touch it, but he does it anyway, and he shuts his eyes, remembering… remembering everything… and his heart is hurting to the point where he fears it will simply pop, and he wants to stop, but he cannot bring himself to do it. He does not want to, even…

And then his phone goes off, and he jumps. He fumbles, tries to flip it open, but his fingers are trembling and it takes much longer than it should to open it and put it to his ear.

“…hello?”

“ _And just why are you not at school?_”

He should have expected their friend to call him, should have known he would worry, and yet he had not even considered the possibility of him calling at that time.

“…I dunno…” he admits softly. “…I just… I don’t feel like it…”

“ _Neku, don’t be stupid. You can’t just skip school because of a bad breakup._ ”

“I know… I know… but… I don’t… I…”

A sigh from the other side. “ _You don’t want to see **him** after what happened, huh?_ ”

Their friend always knows what is bothering him, always knows what to say to him, and always seems to know everything and he does not know if he is happy or annoyed about that. Happy because he does not need to explain things, or annoyed because it makes it seem like he is an idiot.

“…yeah…”

“ _Neku… this has to stop. It’s not healthy for you._ ”

Of course he knows… of course he does… but he cannot do anything about it; he has already tried so many times, but he has never managed to do it, no matter how much he wanted to, and he really did not need someone else to tell him that he had to do it. If it was so easy, he would have done it already.

“…but I can’t…”

“ _I know, kiddo… I know… But listen; you need to settle things properly. You need **closure** , do you understand?_”

“…? N-no… not really…”

“ _A’ight fine. Here’s what you need to do; call him, explain yourself, and then ask him to start over._ ”

“Start--?! Wha…?!”

“ _Things aren’t going to get any better as they are now; you both need to come to terms with what happened, push it behind you, and then move on. You **both** made mistakes, and you need to start accepting that you did that before you can move on. So, call him, explain, apologize, and then start over. For both your sakes._ ”

Start over…? Like all this never happened? Was it really so simple…? Had he overcomplicated everything all this time, with the answer being right in front of him with him being too blind to see…?

…was it really so easy…?

“…but… what if he…?”

“ _Neku, how long have you two known each other?_ ”

“…nine years…”

“ _Exactly. In all my experiences, I’ve never met someone who’s prepared to just throw away nine years of their life over a squabble, when there’s the possibility of things going back to the way they were._ ”

…but he does not want things to go back to the way they were… deep down, he does not want to go back to that time, does not want to go back to the way things once were… because in the long run, he will be forgotten yet again, and he cannot handle that…

“ _Neku, stop._ ”

“…wha…?”

“ _You worry too much. Stop it. Call him. Get it over with. Get your closure so you can move on with your life or you may just end up destroying yourself. Please._ ”

Destroy himself… what is there left _to_ destroy? He has nothing left… nothing…

…so then… what will he lose from calling…?

The longer he stands there thinking about it, the more he comes to realize he has less reasons to not call than to actually call Him, but he cannot stop his heart from pounding against his chest like a jackhammer at the prospect, and yet he knows, knows as well as their friend does, that it will be best thing to do.

_…he has to…_

“…okay… I’ll… I’ll call him…”

“ _Good boy. And I expect you to call back once you have his response, understood?_ ”

“…kay…”

They both hang up at the same time, and he finds himself hesitating, because this is not just a small thing he is about to do either way, and his body is already trembling from what he is about to do, and he needs to take deep, calming breaths to even be able to open his list of contacts. When he finally does manage, he hesitates again, his finger hovering over the green button that will allow him to connect the call, his thumb is shaking and he needs to hold it in both hands to keep the phone itself from doing the same.

He breathes, he closes his eyes, he bites his lip, and then he presses down and he puts the phone to his ear before he can take it back, and he waits…

Once... twice… thrice… four times the phone rings… and then there is a click and he sucks in a breath. Silence follows for what feels like hours in which his heart is pounding against his throat, barely letting him breathe as he waits for something… _anything_ … that says it is okay to say something, because he is just so scared that he cannot even open his mouth.

“ _…what do you want?_ ”

The words are sudden and they make him jump, his heart almost jumping up into his mouth but he swiftly swallows it down as he attempts to speak without his tongue tripping over every single word.

“I… I’m s-sorry… did… did I interrupt something…?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“…o-oh…” He breathes harder, but he swiftly brings up his hand to muffle the sound until he can control himself again, squeezing his eyes shut against the flood of tears that begin to flow the harsh words resounding in his mind now, as he remembers a time where no matter how busy He had been , there would have always been the time to talk to him, however short or long he needed from Him. “I… I’m sorry… I’ll… I’ll call back later…”

Anything anything **anything** to get _out_ of this situation…!

“ _…wait._ ”

He freezes, unsure, as the single word filters through his panicked mind.

“ _…it’s fine… if it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have picked up._ ”

“…oh…”

…that is… good… right?

“ _…so… what do you want?_ ”

He tries to speak, he tries so hard that he almost chokes, but the words fail him as the fear numbs his very being, his hands now clasping tightly to his phone as he struggles to breathe evenly despite his panicked state.

“…I… I just…” he starts slowly, hesitantly, with his fingers clasping tightly to the phone held in his grip as he recalls their friends words and advice, trying so very very hard not to hyperventilate or cry or both, but it is just so _hard!_ “I just… I wanted.. just… I… I-I want to… e-ex… explain a-about… about…”

“ _…just that?_ ”

“…! N-no…! I… I was… I-I…!”

Why why _why_ **_why_** is it so hard?! Why is it so difficult now to say what he wants to say when there used to be a time when he could tell Him everything and talk about nothing for however long he wanted or needed to… _why!?_

“ _…so talk._ ”

He tenses on instinct alone, because His voice is so cold and distant, so unlike how he has always come to know him, so unlike the person he has fallen in love with so long ago, and it hurts… it hurts so bad to realize just how much everything has changed, just because he was not able to keep a better lid on his emotions for one stupid moment, and he begins to realize what it was their friend had meant; forget what happened and start over again.

_…he wants to start over…_

He breathes in slowly, and while his heart still pounds, his mind calms itself enough so as to focus on what it wants and what he knows his whole body needs; closure.

“I… also… I want to… apologize… for what I did…”

“ _…a… apologize…?_ ”

He breathes a little better when His voice loses its hard, cold edge, and it provides him with the much needed courage he needs in order to keep talking to Him.

“I was… I was angry… and upset… I wasn’t thinking straight… A-and I know it’s never going to make it right but… I _am_ sorry… I really am… I’m sorry…”

And he falls silent then, breathing only somewhat easier as he awaits His response, but it feels like it takes forever, and he is too afraid to say anything else for fear of sounding too eager for a response, believing it may just drive Him away again. So he remains silent, breathing as quietly as he can and trying to keep his heart from cracking his ribs with its pounding.

“ _…why?_ ”

“H-huh…?”

“ _…why did you… go out with him? You… you’ve never even met him before… …did you?_”

Oh… this is about them… but… does that mean he has been forgiven? Or is that too much to ask? He does not dare to ask, so he does not, and puts all his focus on the question he has just been asked instead.

“I… we met in… in a bar, a few months ago… I was… invited by my co-workers to go.” He pauses to breathe, because it just hurts so much to relive what began this horrible horrible chain of events. “We were… drunk… we… well… did some things we probably shouldn’t have, but… it… just happened…”

“ _…that’s it?_ ”

“I… guess…”

“ _…you ‘guess’?_ ”

He does not want to, he really does not want to, but his emotions are just not working with him anymore, despite his attempts to keep them under his control, because the whole situation is just too much and just too familiar, even if His voice is lacking the usual cheeky sarcasm that he both loves and hates so much…

“W-well what did you expect me to do…?!” he is able to get out, and he tries to hold back, but he cannot… not anymore. “I’m allowed to have a relationship with someone, aren’t I? I mean, you didn’t say anything when I dated Misaki-chan!”

“ _That’s got nothing to do with this! You—_ “

“Oh shove off, Josh! It’s got _everything_ to do with it! When I date a girl, there’s no issue, but as soon as I start dating a guy it’s a problem for you!”

“ _That’s not the point! My point is that you don’t know him! Why’d you just throw yourself into a relation with someone you know nothing about?!_”

“At least he didn’t keep me waiting for **_5 hours!_** ”

The words are out before he can stop them, and he cannot take them back, no matter how much he wishes he could, especially as the silence that follows those words fills his entire being with dread, and his breath hitches as he tries to come up with something to say, _anything at all…!_

“…I-I--”

“ _…I’m sorry…_ ”

The words are sudden and soft, but he hears them nonetheless and his own words die in his throat as his eyes widen, unseeing as if his whole world was centered instead on the words He is saying.

“ _I should’ve… called… I just… everything just happened so fast and… I just… forgot everything else. That’s… that’s no excuse, I know… and it’s not going to change anything, but… I am sorry…_” A soft breath, a sigh, he thinks, but it does not sound the same as His normal, over exaggerated dramatic sighs. “ _I know you probably don’t believe me, but… I’m sorry…_ ”

He tries to keep his breathing calm, tries to stop his sobs from emerging, tries so very very hard to not let Him know how terribly relieved he really really feels, and he gulps down the lump that is blocking his throat, as he tries to speak again, but he finds it to be so so difficult.

“It’s… it’s okay…” he is able to get out finally. “I… I guess we… we both did some… stupid things, huh?”

“ _Yeah… we did…_ ” He agrees with him, and he is able to breathe a little easier now, as a great weight slips from his shoulders as he stumbles back and leans against the painted wall. “ _We really are screwed up, eh?_”

Against his will, his lips curved up into a smile unlike any he has had in the last few years. “Pfft… speak for yourself… jerk…”

“ _Ouch… now that’s mean, dear._ ”

“Stop calling me that!”

“ _Aww, but why? It’s soooo much fun to see you flush, dear._ ”

“Ah screw you.”

He is chuckling, and He is giggling, and it feels so, so good… this bantering back and forth, as if nothing has changed and he has gone back in time to a time where everything was okay between he and Him, a time where he never had to worry about what to say in front of Him, a time where he could just be himself and enjoy the company of his best friend. As silence finally befalls them both, a wave a nostalgia strikes him hard in the gut and his smile fades away slowly.

“ _…wow…_ ”

“…what?”

“ _…just… it feels like forever since we… talked like this…_ ”

“…yeah…”

“ _…you know what?_ ”

“…what?”

“ _…I… I missed this…_ ”

“…y…you, too?”

“ _…yeah…_ ”

He swallows again, and he reaches for his chest, gripping there firmly as he feels his heart hammering faster than ever before, and he closes his eyes as he tries to keep himself calm, while their friend’s words echo through his head, urging him on down the path he has chosen to walk down.

_…start over… start over…_

“…Joshua?”

“ _…yeah, Neku?_ ”

“…we’ve… both made mistakes… right?”

“ _…yeah. What are you getting at exactly?_ ”

“I… do… do you…” he begins, but he has to pause in order to gather his thoughts again, before he can continue, “do you want to… start over…?”

“ _St… start over…?_ ”

“Y-yeah… just… I don’t want to forget what happened, but… I don’t want to keep having to tiptoe around like this… I just… I want to go back to when… when we didn’t have to worry about anything… …is that wrong…?”

“ _…no… no, of course not…_ ”

He bites his lip, he clenches his hands tight around his phone and in his shirt, as he breathes in deeply but quietly through his nose, trying so hard to not let his anxiety take over, for he hopes, hopes so dearly that his entire body trembles and, he normally never does so, but he finds himself praying… praying for the closure he so desperately needs…

“ _…I’m sorry…_ ”

…and then it all shatters…

“ _I… can’t do that… I’m sorry, but… I can’t and… I… don’t want to…_ ”

“…”

“ _…I just… I can’t just turn round and just… pretend that nothing changed… because… things **did** change and… I can’t ignore that…_ ”

“…”

“ _Just… …Neku…? You… are you still…?_ ”

He hears the words… but he feels nothing… nothing at all…

…nothing…

“… _Neku?_ ”

“…I’m sorry…”

“ _Neku?_ ”

“…that I’m not sorry…”

“ _Wha--?! Wh-what do you…?!_ ”

“I don’t regret what I’ve done… only how I’ve done it… so… sorry… that I can’t say sorry…”

“ _What are you talk--… wait, are you talking about…?_ ”

“…ne…”

“ _Wha…?_ ”

“…I love you…”

“ _Ne… Neku…?_ ”

“…sayonara…”

And he pulls the phone from his ear, and his thumb immediately finds and presses down the red button, and then holds it down, until the screen turns black, and then his arm drops to hang by his side and his legs slide out from under his body and he hits the ground, the wall the only thing keeping him upright, but he does not feel as his rear touches the concrete below, and he does not feel his own tears as they run down his cheeks, but he knows they are, because he hears the quiet sobs in the silence of the alley that can only belong to himself, he does not feel his body shaking from emotion, but he sees how his body trembles…

A broken sob tears from what he believes is his throat, as he hears his voice sob and cry against his will, his vision blurring along the edges until he can see nothing but a myriad of colors splashed across his retinas, blots of color without shape or meaning. He does not feel pain, but he knows that his whole world has just collapsed; the house of cards that is his life has failed to stay standing and has collapsed around him in a sea of memories he once held so fondly to his heart, but now only looks back on with thoughts of regret and a great sadness that devours his very soul…

Slowly, slowly he gets up, he walks, without purpose, without a goal, he merely walks and walks and walks as the sun sets and blankets the world in darkness, but his legs find the way home despite his mind being miles and miles away, and he drops onto the bed, uncaring of whether or not he is still wearing his shoes or not. His body trembles and his fingers clutch to the sheets, but he still feels nothing… and perhaps it is even worse than feeling the unbearable pain he had always assumed would follow so shortly after rejection…

_…useless…_

Cold, dark words echo through his head, unchecked and unfiltered…

_…pathetic… worthless…_

His body feels cold, but he does not care… he no longer can…

_…stupid… stupid fool… what were you thinking?_

He does not know…

_…of course not… of course not… why would He?_

He does not know…

_…He tramples over you… He crushed your heart…_

He knows that…

_…foolish… clinging to false hope… He will never love you… will never even like you…_

He knows that…

_…He can never be happy with you… you cannot make Him happy…_

…wrong…

Slowly, he sits up then, gaze empty and unseeing, but he moves regardless, moves around and does what he now knows needs to be done, the last thing he needs to do to find the one thing he needs more than anything…

_…closure… an end to it all…_

He does not remember what he has done, does not remember if he has even slept, does not remember anything anymore… but he knows what he has to do perfectly fine…

He produces an old, weathered box from below his bed, lifts up the item needed to fill its empty space from where it lays, and has laid for so many years, it feels, and places it down in the box, and he gives it one final look, one final stroke along its surface with the very tip of his fingers, before he places another item along it, and then places the lid back on. He stands then, and he walks slowly, out the door, down the hall, down the stairs, out the building, and away toward his destination, but he pauses at one point and posts two letters, each heavier than normal letters ought to be, and he hears them clang as they hit the bottom of the box, but he walks away silently… uncaring…

There is almost no one out, he thinks, he does not know anymore… or simply does not care anymore… either one… or both…

The building looms over him, the gates are open, but only a few people are there.

He does not care…

He goes inside… finds his destination… puts down the box… pulls out a pen… writes down one word… and leaves…

Steps are getting heavier…

He keeps walking…

His hand holds fast…

His feet carry him forward and upward…

Ever upward…

_…enough…_

His hand finds the handle…

It gives under the weight of his hand…

The door clicks… then opens outward…

It is bright and he squints on instinct…

He walks out…

_…enough is enough…_

His hands grasp the metal…

He thinks… contemplates… wonders if… maybe… maybe…

…maybe…

_…no…_

He puts his foot to the heel of the other… tugs the shoe off…

He repeats for the other shoe…

He uses his foot to set the shoes close together…

_…no more…_

He steps closer…

_…I can’t do this anymore…_

He lifts a leg and moves it over…

_…too much…_

He lifts the other and moves it over too… adjusts his grip…

_…I can’t be with Him…_

He breathes… raises his head… looks up to the clouds…

It looks like rain…

He does not care…

_…but I can make Him happy…_

He breathes in… shuts his eyes as he holds it… and he lets go…

He stands there… opens his eyes and looks up again…

_…if He doesn’t have to see me… surely, He’ll feel much better…_

He breathes quietly… leaning lightly back… weight on the heels of his feet…

_…if you love someone… you’ll do whatever you must… to make them happy… their happiness comes first always…_

He takes a deep breath and briefly wonders… what will happen after… but he is beyond caring…

He lightly pushes his fingers to the railing… pushes forward… balancing precariously on the edge…

_…no matter the cost… whatever it takes…_

He shuts his eyes… lets his weight fall forward…

But he does not get far; a firm grip grabs onto both his arms and pulls backward before arms come around his chest and hold him in place and it makes his eyes open in shock as he blindly grabs the railing with his legs curling around the bars, only by instinct alone because this is not what he wants… not what he needs… he…

“…don’t… you… _dare_ …”

“…!”

“…don’t you… fucking… _dare_ do this to me…”

“…Jo…?”

“Shut up! Just… shut up… _fuck…!_ ”

This is not right… this is not right… He should not be here… why is He…?

“You… stupid… little… how dare you?!”

He does not understand what is happening anymore, does not know how to respond to any of this, but as he stands, confused and lost, his hands move up, they tremble as they move up before he rests the fingers along His arm so lightly because he is terrified that this is all just a dream, a figment of his own shattered mind in an attempt for self-preservation, even if he has given up on that already, because he just cannot take it anymore…

…he cannot…

So he tries to remove the arms, tries to struggle against the grip, but the arms hold fast and pull him further away from the precipice before him and he wants to cry he wants to scream because he has had enough…!

_He wants to die…!_

“Let… _go_ of me…!”

“ **Hell no!** I am _NOT_ letting you go to jump to your goddamn death, you selfish prick!

“Y-you… you’re not the boss of me! You can’t… you can’t just--”

“I _can_ and I _will_ , goddamn it! Because I don’t want to lose you!”

Those words penetrate through his dark thoughts, tear those very thoughts to shreds and make him stop struggling, but he does not move any other way, too afraid still that he is merely making this all up and he will wake up to find it is not real only to have him burst into tears and suffer all over again.

He is scared…

“I don’t… I _can’t_ lose you… so please…”

The words make him aware of a touch to his shoulder, a warm touch, and His arms tighten around him, His fingers digging into his sides and arms which should hurt but it does not because he still cannot feel beyond the numbness that has enveloped his entire being and he wants to break loose, but his hands instead grasp to His arms tighter until his short nails dig through both sloth and skin as his breaths grow more and more desperate.

Why… why _why **why**_ does He ALWAYS make it so much more harder for him to do _anything?!_

“…why…? _Why_ can’t you just… leave me alone…?! _Fuck_ just… just g-go away!”

…is that his voice? He does not recognize it at all...

“No.”

He wants to cry… he wants to scream… he wants to be able to do _anything_ … but he cannot move because his body is instinctively reacting to His presence and wants more than anything to stay there, held so securely as if he is the most precious thing in the world, but he knows better than anyone that there is no way it can last long. It just cannot last… and it will no doubt end horribly he knows…

“…please… let me go…”

“No.”

He is sure that, if he was not completely numbed, his entire being would be hurting, but he feels nothing… not even the tears that are now running down his cheeks, as his breathing becomes even more irregular as he tries to take in enough air to keep his heart beating, as much as he wished he could stop breathing and just end it all then and there…

“…please… just… let me go…”

“No.”

“…why…?”

“I told you… didn’t I? I can’t lose you…”

He cannot say anything more… he wants to… but he cannot find his voice anymore…

“I’m so sorry, Neku… I messed up… I’m so… _so_ sorry…”

When His grip loosens up, he is tempted to rip himself loose entirely and finish what he has started, but he has no time or chance to do so as he is grabbed by his arms and then turned around against the railing, His hand moving swiftly to the back of his neck with the other arm still around him, across his back, and then he is pulled in and…

…and…

_Hot…_

Heat spreads out through his whole being from his lips and his body trembles as he feels his heart pounding against his ribcage, going as far as to pulse in his throat as his hands reach up and clutch tightly to His arm and shoulder, nails digging into the skin that feels far too hot to him.

_It’s… it’s hot… so hot…_

A wet touch then, so familiar and yet so foreign all the same, and his body responds on instinct alone to the sense of familiarity, his hazy, unseeing eyes blinking once, twice, three times, before they open no longer as his lips part slowly, hesitantly, terrified that he has misinterpreted this in one way or another and that he has just made a horrible mistake, but as he slowly moves his head for a better angle and hesitantly reaches out as well, His hand moves from the base of his neck to the back of his head and He reaches for him in turn and he whimpers, clutching to Him tightly now as his arms move around Him, holding fast as his legs tremble helplessly beneath his weight.

It ends soon… too soon, and he cannot help but whine as if to call Him back even though he is certain it will not help him… but He moves closer once again and closes the distance once more and the tension once present in every fiber of his being dissipates as a soft, pleased sound emanates from him…

_…dream… has to… has to be… this’s a dream… a dream… no more… just a dream…_

But… it feels far too real to… to be a dream…

_God… if… if this is a dream… please… please don’t ever let me wake up… please…_

It lasts for so long, much longer than he would have thought it to do, and when it finally does end, it feels like his lips are swollen and his breath is heavy and labored and he has to blink swiftly as he tries desperately to get his sight back, but his vision is blurred along its edges as hot trails of tears flow out from the corners of his eyes. His hand moves over then from behind his head to rest on his cheek and then His thumb is reaching out and wiping away the tears and he feels his throat constrict as he tries so very hard not to whimper like a baby, but He shushes him like he has done so anyway, His other hand moving along his back, rubbing softly to spread that so desperately wanted heat through his body and his hands curl into the fabric of His jacket in response.

“Ssshh… it’s okay, Neku… everything’s going to be fine… I promise, everything’s going to be fine… c’mon… Let’s go…”

_…you promise…?_

The words trigger an old memory then, and the heat that had been prevalent just moments ago fades away and leaves him with a cold realization that the words just spoken to him are… empty…

“…I… I can’t believe you…”

“…! Neku, listen to me; we can fix this, I swear! We--”

He sounds so sincere… but he just cannot do it…

_…enough is enough…_

Slowly, he brings up his hands and cups His face and he moves in one final time, closing the distance this one more time, for only a short time for he fears he will never be able to let go, and so he pulls away and breathes out then…

“…I love you… sayonara…”

And then he moves his hands to His shoulders, takes a swift breath, braces his feet and then he shoves and He cries out as He stumbles and he pushes away from the edge…

All he hears for a long time is the whistle of the wind as he feels like he is weightless for only a brief moment that he knows will end soon but he revels in the sensation for those few precious seconds as the knowledge comes to him that it will all be over soon…

A cry of his name comes then, and he slowly, or so it feels, turns his gaze and a terrified gaze of violet stares back at his…

And then the darkness envelops him and he knows no more…

…

… …

 … … …

… … … …

Awareness comes slowly, but when it finally does hit him again he is confused…

It should have ended… everything should have ended… so why…?

…why is he still here…?

_…I can’t do anything right… can I…? I can’t get over Him… I can’t love someone in His stead… I can’t let Him go… and now I can’t even kill myself… I’m… I’m pathetic… worthless…_

He cannot feel anything, but he is acutely aware of his own awareness, and he wants to curl up and just cry and wail and scream until his voice is raw, but not even his voice works and he does not know if he can even move a finger, much less curl up his whole body.

_Why…? Why can’t I do anything right?! Why can’t you just let me… let me vanish? Why… why… why…?_

Despair claws at his mind, and he wants to cry so badly, but he cannot feel the cries and sobs he knows would make his body tremble, as he sits (?) in the darkness, drowning in his own dark thoughts and his painful memories as he laments what could have been… he just wants everything to go the hell away and… and…

…he wants to start over…

“ _…ku… Neku… It’s okay… don’t cry… please don’t cry…_ ”

…?

That voice… he remembers that voice… who…?

“ _I’m here, Neku, and I’m not going anywhere… I promise I’ll always be here…_ ”

Why… why does it sound like the person is… crying…? …are they…?

“ _So please… please… open your eyes… open your eyes and look at me… please…_”

…why? …why is this person… why…?

“ _…please… I… I… I need you here… with me… so please… please, Neku… please… wa--hah--wake up…_ ”

…a sob breaks the words at the end and he knows now for sure… this person… this person is crying… for him…

…he tries to locate the voice, tries to figure out where the voice comes from, but words are failing the voice as only sobs now resound through wherever he is, but as he “wanders” the realization that he is beginning to get back the feeling of his limbs that has eluded him for so long comes to him, but he does not know if this is a good thing…

…something is holding his hand…

…no… some _one_ …

…his eyelids are heavy… it takes forever to lift them… and he shuts them immediately after…

_Bright…_

…his fingers curl… they do not clench, but they curl…

…he hears a gasp… then his name… like a question…

…he slowly lifts his eyelids again… tries to see… the world is blurred… he cannot see…

…but he sees violet…

…he tries to speak… he cannot… but he is shushed… a soft touch to his forehead…

“Sshh… it’s okay… relax… everything’s going to be okay…”

…is it…? …really…?

…he tries to speak… mouths three words…trying to cling to consciousness… but nothing is heard…

…the touch on his hand grows firm… and he hears three words… three words filled with an emotion he does not remember or recognize… but it is important… keeps him there… keeps him aware…

“I missed you…”

And he slowly curls his fingers around the hand holding his own… squeezing back as best he could…

…maybe… maybe it _will_ be okay…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of that. I'm still working on its sequel ("Three Stages after the Collapse"), which will probably take a while to be up. Let me know what you guys think, kay?


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